


Tea's Armada

by ab2fsycho



Series: The Candle Cult [4]
Category: The Candle Cult
Genre: Angst, But but but, Grief, Loss, Multi, Nightmares, Sadness, THERE IS NON-CON IN THIS BUT NOT ALL OF IT, THIS IS A THING, Torture, a lot of platonic relationships too, and Cuteness, and a bunch of good things, and cuddles, because I'm fucking trash okay, because sometimes it's difficult to read, but - Freeform, but i really want to let you know about the harsh stuff first, but there will be pain, characters go into heat, dammit, how the mighty have fallen, i give warning before non-con, i'm trash, selfcest, smut smut smut, there is also going to be blood, there will also be fluff, there will also be smut, there's heat, unless in a series each chapter can be read separately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 72
Words: 54,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ships involving Tea. Tea is most shipped, and unfortunately not all ships are healthy. I will put in big bold letters which chapters will not be safe for those of us who do not wish to read these unhealthy ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance would like Tea to at least pretend he enjoys himself, if only once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NON-CON BETWEEN LANCE AND TEA

"Come on, darling," he crooned against Tea's neck. The taller arched away from the other, unable to crawl back any further. He couldn't get away from the Master. He couldn't even bring himself to scream as dull teeth grazed the too sensitive skin of his neck. Tea would've been less scared if the teeth were pointed. "Just this once," Tea squeezed his eyes shut against the shaking of his shoulders, "pretend you like it."

Tea shook his head slowly as he blocked out the feel of Lance pushing his shirt up. His fingers burned on his skin, leaving horrible traces of their touch on his flesh. "No," Tea insisted, voice shaky.

Lance smiled against his throat as Lance pushed himself between his legs. "You won't indulge me this once?" Tea felt his chest tighten and fear closing his throat. "After all the trouble I go through to make it as painless as possible?" Perhaps Tea should have laughed that off. Lance and he clearly had different ideas of pain. It might have made Lance lose interest. Then again, he was still coming back wasn't he? He continued to be silent as Lance muttered, "Of course I can make it hurt, if you'd prefer."

Owl talons dug into Tea's sides and he gasped, eyes shooting wide. Lance took the opportunity to seize his lips, pressing his tongue between Tea's teeth. Tea was too terrified to bite down. He always was. The kiss felt wrong, it tasted wrong, every touch was wrong and it always felt that way. Still, when he pulled back to say, "No," again, he found himself staring blankly and fearfully instead.

Lance breathed against his lips, "Just once," he growled hungrily and tears spilled from Tea's eyes, "pretend."

Lance's lips pressed to his once more and this time Tea responded, mouth moving in spite of the churning of his guts. Hands slid to Tea's belt and the taller withheld a gut wrenching sob. It would be another night of holding in his screams for Tea.


	2. I Want You: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan was never comfortable around Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREEPER LANCE AHEAD

"Try this," Rowan tensed as the Master slid the weapon he had been working with and placed a throwing knife in his hand. The Toy stared at it for a moment, the metal slightly warmed from having been sitting in the Master's pocket. He adjusted it in his hand before freezing entirely when Lance placed one hand on his shoulder and another on Rowan's lower back. Rowan's eyes shot wide and his back went rigid. "Don't go stiff on me now," Lance declared, and it sounded like a 'not yet' belonged at the end of the sentence. Shivers wracked Rowan as the hand on his back applied more pressure. "Relax. You can't throw well if you're not relaxed."

Rowan could never see himself relaxing when this particular Master was so close to him. No, Rowan couldn't feel what he was feeling. Most days that was actually a good thing. Others however . . . the lack of knowledge actually made him fear Lance more. He'd had the foolish hope that as soon as he started growing taller the other would intimidate him less. Yet here he was, steadily reaching Lance's height and still very much concerned over the quirk of the elder's lips, the narrowness of his gaze behind the glasses, the almost languid yet perfectly calculated movements that always seemed more pronounced whenever he was approaching Rowan.

At the moment, he was standing behind Rowan. And even while Rowan was sparring and practicing with the other Toys, he still felt like the room was completely empty save for him and Lance. That had to be the most intimidating feeling of all.

"I'm . . . not very good at throwing weapons," Rowan admitted. It was fairly true, but mostly he wanted Lance off of him.

"I'll be the judge of that." Rowan sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut and the hand on his arm clenched in a manner that was supposed to be encouraging. "Now relax," Rowan's eyes darted to the other Toys but none of them seemed to notice his discomfort, "and just try it."

His skin was starting to burn where Lance touched and, in a rush of panic, he threw the knife at the target. His eyes went wide as it was embedded in the ring just outside of the center. Rowan's gut clenched as he heard a pleased hum escape Lance's surely grinning mouth. Rowan felt like he should be shrinking. "Lucky shot," he uttered.

"In that case," the hand on his back left to reach for another, Lance's arm almost caging Rowan's torso as he placed the second knife in the Toy's hand, "try one more."

"O-okay." Did Lance realize how uncomfortable this was? He had to. It was only natural. But there was already so many unnatural things going on in the Puppeteers. What was one more? Rowan just wished he wasn't apart of this one.

His hands shook as he tried taking aim again. He involuntarily shuddered when Lance's breath ghosted his neck and the Master uttered, "It's hard to maintain good aim when you're shivering like that." Oh God, Rowan actually caught another Toy's eye then. Aiden's. His desire to get away must have been evident enough the other Toy actually took notice and started coming over. In another flurry of panic, he actually managed to hit a bullseye. Lance practically purred at his back and Rowan closed his eyes. He was more than relieved when the Master pulled away and uttered, "You're not so bad a shot. You should continue picking up the knives."

The next thing he knew he was being ushered away by Aiden, the Toy rambling about how sorry he was to interrupt but 'Leaf Water' hasn't been eating much lately and he looks a little pale.

Rowan shook as Aiden tried to tell him Lance probably meant nothing by the uncommonly frequent touches. The reassurance was halfhearted at best, but at least the Toy tried. It certainly wasn't enough to convince Rowan to ever pick up a throwing knife again.


	3. I Want You: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being branded, Lance's pursuit of Tea becomes much less subtle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREEPER LANCE INTENSIFIES BY LIKE 200%
> 
> I'M COUNTING THIS AS NON-CON

He lay in bed, the last of the sobs having been pulled from him long before this night. He was still getting used to his new situation, his new lack of interaction with the other Toys. The Toys he trained with --or used to-- were the last beings he could still glean some emotional feedback from. Now they all either feared him or looked upon him with disdain.

Even Aiden.

Rowan buried himself in his blankets, careful to keep his still very sore neck exposed to the somewhat cool air. At night he was allowed some reprieve from the gloves he was forced to wear, but his fingertips were still bandaged and aching from the clipping. He now understand why wounded animals sometimes wound up chewing holes in their paws. He certainly would try it if not for the guard in his mouth.

He managed to doze off in spite of the pain, but was woken up by a heavy weight in his bed. At first he thought he was having a nightmare, shifting about in an attempt to wake himself. Then there was movement above and around him, the feeling of limbs trapping him in the blankets and a body pressed against his through the material.

Terror ripped through him in the form of a scream which was muffled both by the guard in his mouth and the hand that quickly clapped over his lips. The perpetrator shushed him, air blowing into Rowan's ear as lips neared the shell. Rowan flinched and shook, arms and legs thoroughly ensnared in the blankets weighted down by the other's body. He was helpless and scared, but above all alone with the individual above him. He had never felt so small in his entire life.

"This is our little secret," he whispered in Rowan's ear. Rowan's eyes went wide and he whimpered into Lance's hand. Somehow knowing this was Lance made the churning within him so much worse. Perhaps it was because he knew he was doomed now. "Liam wouldn't let me possess you but," oh god did he just lick his lips, "I have a feeling I can still have you. Somehow."

"Please," Rowan's lips fought to move around the guard and against the Master's hand, the word coming out in gibberish rather than English. "Please go--"

"Hmmm and here I thought you were begging for me already. Darn." Rowan let out a strangled cry into the palm as Lance's tongue darted out and licked the brand. Tears formed in his eyes as the Master declared huskily, "My seal would have looked so much prettier on you than this ugly thing."

"Lance please go--"

"Did you enjoy it?" Rowan's eyes shot open and he swore Lance's were glowing red. A hand snaked up his mattress to grip his head and he was reminded of the moment of his branding. Another scream halted in his throat as Lance asked, "When I held you still for him, did you enjoy it too Rowan?"

Rowan's entire being froze at the purr of his name and he was on the verge of screaming and crying when a cold voice hissed from the partially open door, "Let go of my puppet, Lance."

Lance stilled above him, then sighed against Rowan's cheek. "Well it was fun while it lasted," he muttered wistfully.

"Get. Off. Of him." Liam stepped further into the room. "You would really challenge me so soon?"

Lance released Rowan's mouth, sitting up so he was only straddling the teen's waist. "You take away all my fun. Do you know that?"

"You have so little respect I wonder how you fair teaching your beasts or the Toys any."

Lance slid off of Rowan, prolonging the touch as the Toy lay curled up and frozen on his mattress. "I don't see why you're getting so touchy. After all," knuckles reached out and brushed down Rowan's cheeks freshly stained with tears, "he's just a monster now."

"Yes." Liam's eyes flashed. "A monster who belongs to me."

Lance hummed and strode out the room. "As you wish," he murmured before complete departure.

Rowan squeezed his eyes shut as Liam neared, the Puppet Master --his Master-- whispering in a mockingly soothing tone, "There there." No matter how genuine he came off, Liam always seemed to be faking his affections. Rowan could never be sure though. Not with any of the Masters. His Master's hand reached out and stroked his head. It stopped when Rowan flinched. "Don't pull away from me, boy," the Puppet Master scolded. "I'm your only defense against those who wish to do you harm." Rowan stilled then, senses overwhelmed by the various forms of assault he'd endured thus far.

Trapped. Completely and utterly trapped, and between a rock and a hard place no less.

Things had changed so drastically so quickly.


	4. I Want You: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pursuit of Rowan turns into a competition between Lance and Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNWANTED KISSING AHEAD
> 
> The wonderful palola also did art of this: http://thecandlecult.freeforums.net/thread/766/stolen-affection

Tea had never given much thought to his first kiss, and didn't particularly care about ever really having one. That is, until he was actually kissed.

He hadn't seen it coming. He'd been working on something important. Even the memory of what he had been working on seemed to go blank in his mind. What he did remember was a painted hand reaching up under his collar to grip his chin. The hold wasn't hard, but it certainly demanded attention.

Liam turned Tea's head, tilting it up and sending a nervous shudder through him. Before Tea could question whether he'd done something wrong (usually that was preceded by an order of some sort, physical contact he tended to reserve for serious matters), he was struck silent by the other's sharp gaze.

Then further silenced by his Master's lips on his.

Tea froze entirely, blood running cold as the man laid upon him a disturbingly cold kiss that left the Toy shivering in his hold. Tea whimpered as Liam's lips moved against his, wishing to God he could pull away but both afraid to and held fast by his Master's grip. Eyes wide, he watched the other watching . . . not him. When Liam finally released him, he slumped breathlessly as a small whine left his lips. He looked up to see the individual Liam was directing his gaze at and found, to his horror, Lance.

And Lance looked visibly enraged.

Tea felt like he'd just become a part of something much bigger than he had any control over. He went out of his way not to be caught alone in the hallway by either Master.


	5. I Want You: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance retaliates against Liam by attacking Rowan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NON-CON AHEAD
> 
> Also Palola once wrote of how Tea hurt Lance so Lance returned the favor in her Rabbit series. Here's how.

Tea couldn't avoid Lance forever, and the Master was bent on catching him unawares. When he did, Tea was slammed into the wall face first. Nose broken, blood pouring into his mouth, Lance's hand balled in his hair and hot breath ghosted his ear. Tea's eyes slammed shut, and Lance growled in his ear, “So Liam wants to play a game of keep away, does he?”

A hand trailed down Tea's front, steadily sliding south. “Lance, no--,” blood spilled into his mouth as a hand clapped over it.

“Well, I'm game.” Tea screamed against the palm as Lance groped at his nether region. This felt strange. This felt wrong. He didn't like it and he wanted it to stop.

He yelled, “No!” into the hand, but Lance merely breathed in his ear. His breaths were steaming and shallow, and even Tea knew what that meant. The air blew across his face and ear, and he pushed against the wall and shook in Lance's hold only for the hold to constrict. Tea felt overwhelmed, overheated, violated. He screamed, but no one was there to hear him except for the Master doing this to him. In a desperate bid to get him off, Tea bit down on his hand.

While he was immediately released, a shout deafening him, he automatically regretted the action. “Common beast!” Tea was struck so hard across the back of his head he saw black, the ground rising up to meet him. When he woke up, there were pliers attached to one of his teeth and pulling. He was on the ground, Lance straddling his waist and arms while yanking a fang from his gum. Tea's shriek was garbled by the blood leaking down his throat, jaw hurting in ways it hadn't in over a year now. “This will teach you to keep your mouth to yourself!” When the tooth separated from the gum, taking chunks of flesh with it, Lance stood up and dropped the bloody piece into his palm. Tears streamed from Tea's face and blood filled his mouth as he covered his lips and howled from the agony. He watched the Master, limbs having long ceased flailing as he curled in on himself on the ground. Lance marveled at the prize of his actions, then glared down at Tea. “If I ever, even once, feel your teeth on me again or see your teeth on another one of us, I will take another. I will take another for each bite.”

Tea cringed on the ground where Lance left him. When Liam found him, he declared that Lance had accused him of attacking without probable cause. “Is this true?” When Tea didn't answer, only staring back up in utter fear of the other (and of what Lance might do if he did speak), Liam quirked an eyebrow and uttered, “I didn't think so,” before pulling Tea back onto his feet and escorting him to his quarters. There he promised Lance would pay for what he had done to Liam's puppet.

Somehow, Tea didn't think he wanted to know what the other's punishment was going to be. He didn't think it would hurt Lance physically, whatever this punishment would be.


	6. I Want You: 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam makes it very clear to Lance that Rowan is his and that is final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLA FUCKING NON-CON RIGHT HERE

"Do you trust me?" Tea nodded, knowing that was the answer Liam wanted. Although Tea was very, very far from wanting to give his Master anything of the sort. "Then you'll know this is for your own good."

He'd heard those words before. Before he'd been strapped down with a brand nearing his neck. This time he was being bent over the Puppet Master's desk while the man's dire bat held another Master captive across the room. Tea was confused at first, not sure what was about to happen to him. It dawned on him just as Liam's hips pressed against his, his Master's hands pushing his jacket up on his torso as they sought out his waistband. Tea stiffened, eyes wide with horror and stomach twisting as he protested, "Wait, no! Don't--!"

Liam shushed him as painted fingers found Tea's fly. He heard a snarl emanating from the other Master in the room, Lance's noises of disgust drowned out by Liam's ominous command in Tea's ear, "Don't struggle, and keep quiet." Tea's tongue lay flat against the bottom of his mouth and he stared blankly at the wall, avoiding looking at either of the men in the room. What had he done? What had he done to deserve this?

Lance's bitter remark made it clear to him what this was really about. "I got it. I won't touch your things again." Thing. Tea was little more than a thing. He'd known this deep in his head, but hearing it and in this context . . . his muscles tensed and shuddered with seemingly electric shocks that punished him for even thinking about disobeying Liam's orders.

"I don't think," Liam's fingers nimbly undid Tea's trousers and began tugging them and his underwear over and off his hips, "you fully understand the repercussions of your actions." The fabric dragged against his skin and a whine escaped his throat, pushing past his flattened and numbed tongue. "You don't seem to think I've taken proper possession of my property." He heard the sound of a bottle being uncapped and something pouring out into his Master's hand. Eyes jamming shut, Tea was positive he might actually wretch onto the Puppet Master's desk if he thought about what he was certain was coming next. "Consider my claim staked once more."

Fingers inserted themselves into him and he grit his teeth. Blood filled his mouth as he whimpered at the invasion, Liam forcefully widening him in preparation for something far more painful than fingers. He wanted to beg his Master to stop. He wanted to offer him something else, anything else, in exchange for this one shred of dignity. As Liam's hands worked and stretched Tea however, the puppet knew better. He knew he could only endure and he didn't even have a say in the loss of his own virtue. Although, if he were truly being fair with himself, he'd lost anything of the sort when Liam had brought him into this organization in the first place.

Tears streamed from between closed eyelids as fingers were added, moved, removed, and finally replaced with something much larger and harder. Tea gripped the desk, mouth agape as the Puppet Master pushed into him with an almost bored sigh. Lance's voice shattered Tea's resolve as he struggled against the other beast's hold, "Never took you for someone who enjoyed an audience, Liam."

Liam met the other's retort with one of his own, "It's quite a conundrum, actually." Hips slammed against Tea's, forcing the half skinwalker to cry out and suck in a sharp breath. "I can't decide whether you're jealous over not being in my place," a slick hand grasped Tea's hair roughly and jerked it up off the desk as if forcing him to look at Lance, "or his." Tea kept his eyes closed as the hand loosened its grip only slightly, his chin resting on the desk as Liam paced his thrusts into him. The movements burned, as did the bile rising in his throat. "It's rude to ignore our guest, Tea. Open your eyes." The breathless command left Tea sobbing with each push into him, eyes sliding open to focus on where his gaze was being directed. The other Master was watching him with eyes flaring red, and Tea could easily see his breath hitching and the bulge threatening the zip of his pants. Tea was sick. He was so sick being made to watch one while getting fucked by the other. "One day Lance, if you behave, you might know how amazing this feels."

And just like that, Liam had taken everything from him. Even his right to decide.


	7. Eat Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there was only one reason Tea continued living: a friendship he no longer had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you were wondering when I wasn't going to post non-con. Here. Finally. This is not non-con. This is bittersweet.

Shove. "Eat."

Shove. Silence.

Aiden shoved the bowl a bit rougher, soup sloshing onto the table. Tea didn't lift his head as the Toy growled, "Look, I get it. Your stupid jaw hurts or whatever. But eat the damn soup anyway so we can get on with our day."

He wasn't just hurting there. He was hurting everywhere. Aiden really had no fucking clue what had been done to him lately, did he? Tea's gums had only recently stopped bleeding from gritting his teeth so hard. "You don't need to stick around. I'll eat it when I feel up to it." Which translated into dumping the soup out into the trash. He reached for his mug of tea with a shaking hand.

Aiden stopped him by pulling the cup out of his reaching. "Strict orders. I'm to watch you eat this to make sure you actually do. Do we need to shove a tube down your throat again?" Tea flinched at the memory, throat aching in remembrance. Aiden huffed in aggravation. "Look, I couldn't give a damn if you starved yourself. You're wasting everyone's time, so just bite the bullet and eat the fucking soup." Tea rested his cheek on the cold table, aching all over and ignoring the pangs of hunger in his gut. He didn't want to. He simply did not want to, and yet Aiden wasn't going to leave him alone until he did. "Rowan, please."

Tea stilled at the plea, glancing up only a little to see that the other wasn't fully aware he'd said it. There was a flash of sadness and shame in the other Toy Tea picked up on. The secondary emotions left his gut twisting and head spinning. He remembered that tone. He had missed it. He'd never say so aloud as it would only get him one hell of a beat down, but he missed it.

It wouldn't be long before he lost this Aiden to heartlessness entirely.

Drawing in a deep breath, he sat up enough to pull the bowl back towards himself. He stared at the now lukewarm liquid, cupping the bowl in both hands and keeping his eyes on the food. When he felt the hidden ounce of relief covered by a veil of annoyance from the other, he gulped down the soup in spite of his twisting guts. He coughed when he made it halfway through the bowl, flinching as Aiden reached to take said bowl from his hands. He pulled away, set in his decision. He would eat. If nothing else, he would do this for the friendship they once had.

That was sometimes the only driving force behind his orders to keep on living.


	8. Take it Off: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance enjoys humiliating Tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND JUST LIKE THAT IT'S NON-CON AGAIN

"Undress." The door clicked shut and locked behind him.

Tea stood frozen, mortified. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me." Lance exaggerated his lips movements and diction as he repeated, "Un. Dress."

Tea took a step back, legs hitting his bed. He was shivering as he shook his head. "My coat. Liam--"

"Liam isn't here right now, and you know better." Tea winced at the memory of the last time Lance had made a stab at his coat. He felt sore just thinking of how he'd worn it during the act just to flaunt his dominance over Tea.

Holding up his shaking hands, he resorted to begging, "Please, just--"

He was stopped as Lance pulled a knife from his person and began flipping it in the air warningly. Tea whimpered. "I'll say it one more time. You had better start with those gloves, Monster."

Before Lance could even utter the first syllable, Tea had yanked the gloves from his hands. Unbuttoning his coat with fumbling fingers, he snagged his claws on the material and whined fretfully. Every wasted second was a second in which he might feel the bite of Lance's knife. Pulling his arms free of the coat, he pulled his shirt over his head.

His fingers locked above his pants button and he couldn't continue.

Tea stared at his frozen fingers, shoulders shaking. His eyes were so wide and watering, his arms and chest covered in goosebumps. He was so cold. Naked already. And Lance wanted more. He . . . he couldn't. With a trembling voice, Tea pleaded again, "Please don't make me do this."

There was a moment's worth of quite where Lance stopped twirling the knife. Tea braced for impact, but it didn't come. He closed his eyes, but his ears were met with encroaching footsteps as opposed to the draw of an arm. He felt Lance's heat before he opened his eyes and stared at their feet. They were toe to toe, the knife just within his line of sight.

Then in one fluid movement, it was digging into his throat. "I will freshen up that brand for you if you don't continue."

Tea whimpered at the point digging into his skin. "Lance, p-pl--"

"You started. Now finish," Lance ordered. A tongue flicked out and lapped at Tea's lips, the giant cringing. "Don't make this harder than it has to be." Tea was frozen for a minute more before he popped the button of his pants. Unzipping his fly, he couldn't recall a moment where he'd felt more ashamed and . . . dirty.

And having Lance cooing about how good he was being the whole time only made the feeling worse.


	9. Little Shit Rowan: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a preteen, Rowan picked on Aiden relentlessly. Aiden sometimes got the opportunity to retaliate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this slight fluff of baby Rowan pranking this asshole.

The kid was quiet at times. Others he was nothing but a smart mouth and a stupid grin Aiden found he sometimes wanted to punch. Especially when he called Aiden old.

Not even thirteen yet, Rowan managed to be the biggest pain in the ass about joining the Puppeteers. It wasn't like his actions went unmonitored. Someone always seemed to be watching the kid, be it beast or Master. The only ones who bothered to correct him were a pair of higher ups he listened to without question, one because he respected him and the other because he feared him.

Aiden was not someone Rowan listened to. At all. But that morning when he woke up to find the kid standing over him with a permanent marker in his hand, Aiden managed to actually tackle the brat to the ground before he could run off and hide behind one of the beasts that watched him so closely.  
Rowan's cackle turned to kicking and screaming to be let go as Aiden bellowed, "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" Rowan cried, arms flailing as he abandoned the marker in favor of shoving Aiden off. He wasn't very successful. "You're heavy, get off!"

"Not until you tell me what you wrote on me!" It was on his face. He saw black out of the corner of his eye and he knew from experience it wasn't Rowan's forte to draw pictures on him.

"It's a compliment, I swear!" Rowan argued, squirming in his hold. "Get off, you're crushing me."

Another Toy neither knew the name of sat up in bed to stare at the two wrestling (if that even) and squinted at Aiden's face. Before he could ask the Toy what Rowan had written, she read aloud, "'I'm a dick'?"

Aiden glared at Rowan, who feigned an innocent grin and shrank slightly under the accusing gaze. "Compliment, huh?" He stood then, scooping the smaller boy up and throwing him over his shoulder.

Rowan shouted, "Put me down!"

"Oh I will," Aiden declared as he started walking out of the Toys' main quarters.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Rowan cried as he struggled.

"I'm shoving you in the trash where you belong."

It had never been so difficult to shove something into a garbage bin before.


	10. Dog: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea brings in some new recruits, but oversteps his bounds by pairing them up with a beast without permission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLA FUCKING NON-CON AHEAD
> 
> if by now you're wondering why I write so much of this vein, it's because it's therapeutic for me. I'll explain more if you ask me, but believe me it helps me with a lot of things.

When Liam had warned him never to make a single noise that even vaguely resembled something not human, Tea took him seriously. When he was younger and was learning to feel the urge to sound off rising in his throat, he always went somewhere private and tried to quietly let it out. Lance made a game of tormenting him, trying to make him jump and scream or being particularly harsh just to hear the slightest crow or whine or hiss. He’d grown up controlling the sounds well.

 

But sometimes the punishment was too harsh for him to conceal.

 

He’d expected to be punished for bringing Cain and Abel to Cerberus first and not Liam, but not to this degree. His back had been to the door when it slammed open and hit the wall. Before Tea could even turn and address his master, he’d been stricken so hard across the face his eye closed and didn’t open again and he spun and collapsed on the bed. His knees hit the ground, cracking and bruising as clawed hands gripped his scalp and throat. Liam lifted him enough so that he was bent over the edge of his bed, the door clicking locked behind them indicating they were not alone in the room.

 

Liam pulled on his coat collar enough to choke him, his voice deceptively smooth as he asked, “Who gave you the right to decide where to place those brats?”

 

“Certainly not I,” came Lance’s voice. Tea’s blood froze in absolute terror as his one good eye widened.

 

“Do you think you know what’s best for our potential Toys now?” Tea clawed at the bed as Liam started tugging his clothes off, baring his skin himself and the other Master.

 

“I think he’s just worried we would be a bad influence on them,” Lance leered, the bed dipping under his weight. Tea stilled fearfully as he saw Lance pulling knives from his pockets.

 

“Were you?” Liam asked, carving up Tea’s now bare back with his claws. Tea turned his head and buried his face in the mattress to muffle the scream that threatened to pass through his lips. He gasped against the sheets for air as Liam asked, “If you were so concerned, why didn’t you just kill them?”

 

“I could kill them in a few different ways.” A knife spiked in one of Tea’s shoulders and a cry ripped from his lungs against the mattress.

 

“You are belligerent, but you are not this stupid. And neither are we.” Liam bared Tea’s lower half to him, the half skinwalker’s trousers dropping to his sore knees as claw marks were raked into the backs of his thighs. “You know better than to act without our say-so.”

 

“I’m s-sorry,” Tea murmured as he arched away from his master’s hands, but wound up closer to Lance.

 

Lance responded with another knife to Tea’s other shoulder. This time he twisted the blade inside of the puppet’s flesh and murmured, “It’s a bit late for apologies.”

 

“Especially now that the dog has decided not to let us near those hellions.” Tea clawed across his sheets and whined as Liam’s hand slid to his ass and he drove still sharp fingers inside of him. “You certainly accomplished your goal, didn’t you?”

 

“Was it worth it?” Lance’s hands gripped the handles of the knives embedded in Tea’s back as his master thrust talons into him. When a point dug inside him, it combined with the stabbing into his shoulders to force his mouth wide against the mattress.

 

What came out was the cry of a beaten hound.

 

The Puppet Masters paused in their movements and Tea’s good eye shot wide as he froze. Lance let out an amused chortle, and Liam started seething. “So you are a dog, now?” was his master’s cruel question. Tea cowered under them, shaking against the bed as he realized his mistake. He’d lost control. He’d lost control in front of them. He hated himself as frightened whimpers escaped his lips, tears flooding to his eyes as he continued to dig his own grave deeper. “Lance.”

 

“Yes dear?” the other responded too mirthfully.

 

“Fetch me a collar and a chain.” The other practically bounced off the bed with excitement and Tea cried out again as the fingers were shoved deeper and harder into him. “If you are a dog, you will be chained like one.”

 

Tea knew no way to brace for what was to come.


	11. Dog: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cerberus has a pair of kids to look after, but he still checks on the one he wishes he could have protected better.
> 
> He sees that he arrived a little too late to save him from a punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No non-con here but descriptions of blood and pain follow.

“Stay right here,” Cerberus tells the two at the door, leaving it open partway so that the twins weren’t actually out of his sight. They sat on the ground, staring after him with big puppy eyes as he entered Tea’s room. Something had gone wrong with the kid and rules be damned he was going to make sure he was okay.

 

The first thing that hit him was the smell of the room. Sour odors combined with the metallic scent of blood threw him for a loop. He heard something heavy drag across the floor, like metal rings as he saw a blonde head dip down so that it was hidden by a torn up and bloody bed. Cerberus’s stomach turned as he padded over to the bed quickly, heads dropping low as he tried to prepare himself for the sight.

 

He wasn’t ready. He was not ready for the rush of rage that came over him at the sight of Tea. The kid curled in on himself, one hand latched onto his pants like he’d just pulled them on and the other wrapped around a metal collar with blunted spikes pointing inward meant to train him not to pull against whoever was holding the chain dragging on the stone floor. Just looking at the reddened, mostly punctured sides of Tea’s neck told Cerberus that was not how the collar had been used. Torso bruised and ripped by claws, back still bloody from two stab wounds, Tea’s face looked just as bad. Eyes swollen shut, there was no way he knew it was Cerberus standing there. The fear was potent on the kid and Cerberus was sure he had never seen redder.

 

But Tea needed his attention first. Glancing out the door to make sure the twins were still there and not looking, Cerberus stepped out of one form and into his human one. He whispered that it was him, and was greeted with a small whine of, “C-Ceb?”

 

“Yeah kid, it’s Ceb.” He didn’t correct him on the name, gently patting Tea’s knee. The fact that the kid didn’t even jerk away told him how bad off he was. Cerberus’s anger flared as he reached for the chain on the kid’s neck. “Can I remove this?” He wanted to, but also didn’t want to incur the wrath of those who had done this to the kid.

 

Tea nodded carefully and Cerberus started unstrapping the collar. He heard the boy sigh gratefully and turned Tea’s head to examine the puncture wounds the spikes had left behind. Tea stiffened. “The—”

 

“They’re fine.” They were right outside. Cerberus could hear them starting to bicker and slap at one another. “Did those bastards do this to you because of them?” Tea shrank, but gave no verbal answer. That was enough for Cerberus to start snarling. Tea shrank further as he declared, “I’m going to fucking—”

 

“You can’t,” Tea protested.

 

“Like hell!” he bellowed, jaws snapping dangerously. So what if he wasn’t in his true guardian form. He had never seen Tea so torn up, and it wasn’t acceptable. Especially knowing this was because of him and something he and Tea had agreed upon.

 

A soft whine caught his attention and it drained him of his righteous indignation. He turned to Tea, who had let the canine whimpers escape his bruised and bloodied throat. Cerberus’s brow furrowed as he understood what Tea wanted from him, understood that the twins’ safety was more important now. They weren’t ready to fend for themselves. Cerberus didn’t want to listen to Tea, didn’t want to settle down. He wanted nothing more than to march over to the boy’s masters and tear them limb from limb and the only thing really stopping him was his connections. He didn’t want to admit the boy was right, but he was.

 

Cerberus sank to the ground beside Tea, shifting back into the form closer to his natural appearance. Grunting and barking softly back to Tea, he told him he would think of their safety. No matter how badly he wanted to make sure this didn’t happen to the kid again, he would think of the twins first. Tea whined that Cerberus should leave, but the guardian growled that that wasn’t going to happen. Settling in against the wall beside Tea, he gently tucked the kid between two of his heads. Tea was stiff at first, but then buried his face and hands in the guardian’s fur. He started off quiet, then the whines and whimpers turned from making sense to just incoherent cries of pain. One of Cerberus’s mouths let its tongue slide out to lick the blood from Tea’s wounds, the kid wincing at first at the warm tongue against his skin. Tea’s hands clenched in the fur and Cerberus felt the guilt continuing to drive home and penetrate his chest.

 

He’d just made sense of Tea’s latest plea not to tell the twins why he looked like this when the door creaked open and said twins stepped in hesitantly. One of the guardian’s heads peaked over to see the tiny redheaded boys approaching. They didn’t blink at the blood and mess, but they did visibly anger. “What happened?” one asked.

 

“Who did this?” the other demanded.

 

“Why?” They approached quickly now, Tea drawing up closer to Cerberus as the guardian’s tongue continued to graze over his marred skin.

 

Tea whined into Cerberus’s chest and he prattled off what the young man prompted him to say. “He just got in a fight and lost, you two.”

 

The twins crouched down beside Cerberus, sliding closer as the smaller of the two (Abel) reached out for the giant. Cain watched over his brother’s shoulder as Abel hesitated to touch Tea. Cerberus could tell they wanted to comfort the half skinwalker, but either weren’t sure how or were too concerned over frightening him. He felt his blood freeze slightly when Cain looked up at him knowingly and said, “He couldn’t fight back.”

 

“So it wasn’t really a fight,” Abel concluded. Tea shuddered as the smaller rubbed his back gently, caressing the parts that weren’t cut or bruised. Abel started cooing to Tea, and Cerberus was further taken aback as the boy uttered, “A shower should help the soreness, Trash Giant.” Tea shuddered and whimpered at the suggestion and Cerberus almost did the same. The boys’ knowledge of the situation implied much for them, even though they had said so little. They weren’t the smartest, so their pointing these things out struck both Tea and Cerberus as indicative of what they knew to be fact.

 

In a burst of anger that made Tea flinch against Cerberus, Cain snapped, “I wanna kill who did this!”

 

Before Cerberus could snap at him no (though he wanted desperately to do the same), Abel whispered to his brother, “You know we can’t.”

 

“Why the hell—?”

 

“They’ll hurt him worse.”

 

“Not if they’re dead!”

 

“The two of you won’t kill anyone,” Cerberus growled. The twins stilled, Abel still rubbing circles into Tea’s back as the giant whimpered into Cerberus’s fur. “You barely survived getting eaten, and now you think you can take down centuries old Masters?” Keeping Cy and the Masters off of them was going to be an even bigger challenge if they wanted to fight before they were ready. He liked that they wanted to fight, but he also liked them breathing.

 

The twins continued to settle and quiet, Cain slumping down and pouting as he leaned against his brother. Abel pulled away from Tea and passed a look towards his twin. They stared at one another for a moment, then nodded as though they’d come to a decision. They stood, Cerberus watching as they proceeded to pull the disheveled sheets off the mattress and fumble through the room for another set. Fixing the bed back up with only a minor amount of bickering, Tea had completely relaxed against Cerberus and ceased his whimpering when the boys started sifting through his belongings clean clothes and bandages. Tea struggles initially, whining and pushing them off, but Cerberus convinces him to let them help. He doesn’t put on clean pants, but does let them bandage the wounds that are visible (cleaned by Cerberus’s tongue) and pull a shirt over his head. Encouraging him onto his bed the twins sit on the edges on either side of Tea as the giant curls on the small mattress. Both hug the giant carefully, Cain uttering to him, “We’ll protect you.”

 

“We won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

 

“Not while we’re around.”

 

Tea is quiet, both he and Cerberus sharing similar thoughts the guardian is sure. Settling at the foot of the bed, Cerberus grunts and pins his gaze on the door. On some level, he pitied whoever would dare to come through it while they were there. On another, he worried for the half skinwalker and his fate upon exiting.

 

He secretly dared someone to harm him this terribly again.


	12. A Worthy First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leland is the first person to give Tea a choice, and the first to make Tea feel like kissing isn't just an exchange of power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this incredibly fluffy fic in the middle of all my pain.

“You’re very cute.” Tea scoffed and covered the lower half of his face with his jacket collar. “I would like to kiss you.”

Tea’s heart stopped. Eyes steadily widening, he turned a startled gaze upon the forest guardian. Leland leaned on his palm, staring across his counter at Tea so casually. As if he hadn’t just said something so . . . so . . ., “What?”

“I would like to kiss you. May I?” Tea grew stiff. The question was by no means innocent. Leland had desires and feelings that Tea had never felt in another. He’d never felt them in himself. Well, he had but they had never been as strong or run as deep. He’d been too young to even know what those feelings were or what they meant, and though he had only been with heartless individuals he knew vaguely what their stares meant though they were void of the feelings themselves. Leland was completely different. Everything about him was different. He felt, and Tea felt him feel. He was genuine, in every word and gesture he shared. There was no deception running in his veins. There was agony. There was hurt that he hid well. But there was no malice. There was no threat of Leland propelling across his counter and taking advantage of Tea in a place where he had felt welcome thus far. This was further evidenced when the smile faltered and Leland explained, “It’s alright if you say no or don’t want to. You know that, right?”

No. Tea didn’t know that. Still he nodded, a quiet, “Uh huh,” falling from his lips as he stared at the counter. His face felt hot. He . . . he didn’t feel threatened. Not here. Not by Leland. He’d always felt comfortable with the forest guardian, hence why he kept coming back after that one time the other had freed him from the tangle of a tree. He couldn’t deny that his friend was attractive. There was something beautiful and earthly about him, which made sense considering that he was a forest guardian. But Tea had never . . . he’d never thought to consider . . . .

His heart was pounding as Leland straightened up, readying to stand and turn away. “Let’s change the subject,” he offered, as if sensing the discomfort in Tea.

“N-no,” Tea said, retreating into himself as he assessed what had a hold on him.

Leland turned back to him and gave him an even sweeter smile. “I did not want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not.” Tea looked up at the forest guardian, realizing that he actually was speaking true. The idea of kissing Leland didn’t make him uncomfortable. It made heat pool in his gut, a heat that was almost painful but not wholly unpleasant. But it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He said with a little more force, “I’m not.” Then he gave Leland the closest thing to the truth he could muster without revealing so much about himself. “I’ve just . . . n-never been kissed bef-fore.” His first kiss hadn’t even been from someone who truly wanted him. Actually, Liam had wanted him. Still wanted him. Just . . . kissing was a mark of ownership, not a show of affection. Tea had no idea what it was like to feel someone’s affection for him through the press of lips.

He realized now was his chance. And he was scared. Scared and . . . something else. 

Leland came around the counter to stand before him. The forest guardian reached up to cradle Tea’s face in his palms. He was so warm, so gentle. Tea stared up at him nervously, eyes wide as he swallowed hard against the lump threatening to form in his throat. Leland’s whisper was soft, “Will you give me the honor of being your first?” Tea gulped again, then answered with an action of his own. He leaned up into Leland’s grasp, closing his eyes and pushing up so that his lips met the forest guardian’s.

Tea lost his breath immediately as the kiss set his senses alight. He sucked in a breath through his nose, Leland’s mouth moving against his. Instead of feeling as though he should be silent, his throat vibrated from moans that only just reached his ears. Leland smiled against his lips and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding between Tea’s lips. Tea opened his mouth to him willingly, drawing Leland’s warmth in as the forest guardian pressed closer. Leland was so warm, so welcome . . . .

So loving.

Tea’s eyes started to water as the kiss slowed to a stop, lips reddened with Leland’s just a hairsbreadth from his. He felt weak in the knees. If Leland had asked him to stand then, he didn’t think he could do it. Leland’s thumbs stroked over his cheeks tenderly, Tea’s eyes fluttering open briefly only for his gaze to be blurred by the tears that had gathered. Leland’s lips moved, but Tea didn’t hear at first. “What?” he asked softly.

“What’s your real name?”

Tea swallowed hard again, hesitation creeping onto his tongue. Every cell within him protested against his giving his name over, but before they could act to stop it he murmured, “R-Rowan.”

Leland’s thumbs stopped stroking and Tea squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of . . . something. Anything. What he got was so far from anything he could have expected. Leland’s hands dropped from his face and before Tea could mourn the loss of the other’s warmth, the forest guardian was grasping his hands firmly. He pulled Tea’s palms to his lips, running kisses over the backs of Tea’s hands and the pads of his fingers. Tea was so taken aback by the almost reverent gestures that he again almost didn’t hear the other speak. “What a beautiful name. What a beautiful, perfect name.” Still clasping his hands firmly, Leland kissed him again and he was left just as breathless and adored after the second one as he had been the first. “Rowan.”

Hearing his name on Leland’s lips did not render him sore and ashamed. No, Tea . . . Rowan felt completely and utterly alive. Alive and, for the first time in a long time, unafraid.


	13. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very old drabble about Tea having a nightmare and Aiden waking him up from it.

Aiden awoke to the feeling of his partner shuddering in his arms. Tea twitched and whimpered in his sleep, blood spilling from his gums and onto the pillow from gritting his teeth too hard. Aiden's brow furrowed as the drowsiness of having been woken up fled and he grasped the other's shoulder. "Hey," he uttered, giving Tea a small shake. This only made the other grip the mattress and sheets harder. "Wake up, you idiot," Aiden declared, but Tea's only response was to squeeze his eyes shut even harder. "Tea, goddam--"

The giant's eyes shot open as his hands shot out, shoving Aiden back and out of the bed entirely as Tea shouted, "Get off!" and sat bolt upright.

Aiden lay on the ground, by now his hips having grown accustomed to getting bruised in this fashion. With a sigh he tried not to sound too exasperated, he sat up enough to look over the mattress at his partner. Tea wasn't even looking at him at this point. He had his head in his hands and was hunched over his drawn up legs.

Standing up slowly, Aiden moved around to the other side of the bed, uttering as he went, "Remember where you are and who you're with, okay?" He had to physically restrain himself from calling Tea a moron again, waiting for the tenseness in the other's frame to subside. He drew in several deep breaths trying to calm himself down. It was difficult remembering his own mood and temperament could affect the giant as well now. When he saw Tea's hands go slack on his face, Aiden said, "I'm gonna touch you now. Are you gonna punch me or anything?" He waited for Tea to shake his head before unceremoniously shoving the other's hands out of the way to look at what he'd done to himself. He huffed at the other's bloodied gums and lips, a line of red liquid pooling and dripping from the corner of his mouth. Tea's eyes were wide and half deranged and honestly . . . Aiden had seen him much worse. This he could handle. "We need to get you a mouth guard," Aiden declared before ushering Tea out of bed. His partner was slow to move, but he was moving all the same. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." He knew the other hated the taste of blood.

And there was nothing like a cup of the hot beverage from which he'd gotten his name to get him to talk.


	14. Tea's Drunk Not-Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When had Tea become responsible for Aiden and Grey while they were inebriated? He would really like to know.
> 
> Another very old drabble.

"You're irrelevant."

"No, you're irrelevant."

"You're both gonna be irrelevant if you don't quit." Neither paid attention to the giant as Tea started ushering them out of the kitchen and through the home. They had achieved the stumbling state of drunkenness by the time Tapi had told him to deal with his 'boyfriends.' He really wasn’t sure what to call them right now, aside from assholes.

Tea rolled his eyes as both Grey and Aiden slammed into his sides, arms wrapping haphazardly around him and each other. "Get off!" Grey said, putting his hand on Aiden's jaw and pushing. "E'snot yours!"

Aiden's own hand pushed on Grey's head, both completely ignoring the person trapped in between them. "I sawim first," Aiden bickered. To add to the scene, he hiccuped.

"That don’t count. You had no heart!"

"Now I got his heart." Tea's face purpled.

"Not like you wanted it," Grey said a little too loudly as their pushing and shoving got a little rougher, jostling Tea between them.

"Well maybe now I do!"

"Too late. You cannot havim."

"You know what I can have?" And there it was. A hand on Tea's ass. Aiden's hand specifically. "This!"

Teeth sank in through Tea's shirt on the other side, making his back stiffen even more as a squeak of protest escaped Tea's lips. "I get the rest," Grey growled through the mouthful of Tea's shirt.

"Oh do you--?"

"That's it!" Tea shoved them both back, Aiden stumbling into the doorjamb and Grey hitting the wall. Without allowing them any time to recover, Tea bent low enough to fling Aiden over one shoulder before picking Grey up and carrying him under his other arm. Moving to their rooms, Tea grumbled, "Neither of you get anything tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever."

To top off the night, they both whined at the same pitch.


	15. When He Sleeps: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden didn't sleep well to begin with. Losing his friend didn't help, especially when a monster was walking around in his place.

Aiden didn't always sleep well for many reasons he didn't feel needed mentioning. No one really questioned him when he wandered the halls, not even the heartless older members of the Puppeteers. He was convinced they never slept to begin with. It was on one of these late night strolls he found Tea's -- er, Rowan's -- quarters. He'd been moved away from the other Toys after the 'incident.' Aiden cringed at the memory of finding out his former compatriot wasn't human. Not fully, at least. The Masters had made good on their attempts at covering up what had become of Tea with gloves and guards and high collars, but ultimately the other Puppeteers found out. It was only ever a matter of time before anyone found out that a once cherished member was a half beast, a puppet to their leader.

Opinions changed about as quickly as Tea had, it seemed. And just as suddenly as well.

Aiden stopped in his wandering and paused outside of the monster's room. He was almost scared to be near it, afraid of what Tea was capable of. For some reason it didn't matter how reassuring the news was that Tea was on a figurative leash, he was still . . . not human. Aiden didn't really know if that half of him counted anymore. Tea was just . . . a monster. A puppet. Like Liam's Relic. Like Lance's Evangeline. Like King . . . and . . . .

Curiosity welled up in him and he recalled how Tea used to be before he was revealed to be half skinwalker. A thought struck him and Aiden wound up pushing past the already semi open door and looking in. He'd heard Tea no longer slept well. Like Aiden. This night, though, he was stiff but still in his bed.

Aiden stared, the once Toy lying prone on the bed with raspy breaths coming out likely as a result of the awkward position of his head. The brand on his neck was exposed and a guard ensnared his fangs and kept him from gritting his pointed teeth in his sleep. His chest rose and fell sharply, his brow knitted together like he was seeing something behind those closed eyelids, something devastating. Heavy gloves on the former Toy's hands shook Aiden out of his trance.

The wandering Toy had to back out of the room quickly and quietly to keep from standing over the sleeping beast. Something about the sight of Tea sleeping was sickening. It was terrifying. Aiden didn't fully grasp what had felt wrong about the scene, but as soon as he did it made him cold toward the monster. 

It just didn't seem right for someone who was now technically beneath him to look so . . . normal as he slept.


	16. When He Sleeps: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death isn't pretty, not even on the one who forced a heart into Aiden's chest.

Tea had suffered much. He had to acknowledge that as fact now, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. In fact, he was quite the opposite of pleased with the former Puppeteer. He'd turned everything upside down for Aiden and all he wanted to do was finish the job Tea couldn't.

The freshly beating heart in his chest seemed to have other plans for him though.

Aiden was torn up and bruised by the time he'd wound up back at the home of the Candle Cult and demanding somebody there finish him off. He should be dead like the others, not . . . feeling for the first time in a little over fifty years. He was greeted about as poorly as he expected to be. It was a relief really, to be battered and broken by someone not himself.

Then they'd whittled out of him why he was there and told him that was Tea's responsibility and Tea wasn't available at the moment. Aiden's eyes narrowed and he demanded, "What the hell is he doing? Make him take care of this now!" After all, wasn't Tea just as much at the leader's command as he'd been with Liam?

Said leader's sneer barely registered with him before he was thrown through a doorway and into a wall. The air was knocked out of him, but he still heard her clearly snarl, "Are you dense or what?" He didn't have time to respond before smoke wrapped around his torso and throat and she was in his face again. "You must not know what became of him?" Then he was being dragged through the home and he found himself staring at a sleeping giant for the second time in his life. "I don't know about you, but I don't think he's feeling up to dealing with your sorry ass at the moment."

They had stood staring long enough for the image of Tea's lifeless body to sink in. He was held together by strange magic Aiden recognized, and looked ready to fall apart without warning at any moment. It made the Puppeteer ill to think of it, and the feeling was further intensified by Tea's face. A despondence, a complete lack of registry over the state of his own body made the horrible ache in Aiden's chest so, so much worse.

He didn't complain about being trapped in a basement until Tea was prompted to awaken. He was too busy trying to discern why seeing the person who'd ruined him dismembered didn't elicit satisfaction, but rather fostered the growing agony within him.


	17. When He Sleeps: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it like for Tea now that he isn't among the Puppeteers? Aiden gets stuck wondering this as he wanders about the manor looking for his own peace.

Fights between the two were inevitable and seemed never ending. It was a miracle they slept at all. He didn't really, when given the opportunity he didn’t at least. But Tea did. Sometimes.

He had the awful idea that he could push Tea into ripping out his heart if he scared him enough upon waking. It was dark as he slipped into Tea's room, his footsteps quiet and almost inaudible. He only heard them because he was so focused on stealth he was judging his every step. He pushed away the thoughts in his head that screamed how terrible of an idea this was. Honestly, could be really say he was better than Lance after pulling something like this? Part of him said no because this was certainly something the Master would have done. Another part of him said it didn't matter because if he succeeded he'd be dead.

But his thoughts caught up to him when he was leaning over Tea's bed and staring down at the other. Aiden jumped as the giant lay on his side, clutching at his sheets with clawed fingers, tearing through the material. Darkness pooled on the pillow by Tea's mouth and of all the things to occur to Aiden at the time . . . he remembered the guards. The guards forced into Tea's mouth to both silence him and keep him from biting down. Of all the things he could have wondered, he wondered if the former enemy was happier this way. He woke up with lesions in his gums and blood on his teeth, but was he happier?

Aiden was knocked out of his revelation when he heard the clicking of a gun being cocked behind him. His eyes narrowed and his back straightened as cigarette smoke tainted his senses. "I have half a mind to blow your fucking head off right now."

He was startled by the weapons Master's whispered words not because the beast had tried avoiding him as much as Tea, but because he was in Tea's room to begin with. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"Why the fuck are you here?"

He almost said he asked first, but just knew Grey was the kind of person to respond with 'I asked you second.' Growling, he declared, "He owes me a death."

There was a long pause. Then Grey said, "In all fairness, he owes me one too. But not my death." Aiden heard the gun being relieved of its ready state before Grey said almost too lowly, "But I'm not here to collect. And I'll be damned if you get to too."

Aiden tilted his head as his eyes lingered on Tea momentarily. "Why the hell are you here, then?"

Grey snorted, but didn't answer. He simply said, "Get out." For the time being, he would listen. But as he headed for the door, Grey's parting words stuck with him, "He's not yours to hurt anymore."

In a way, Tea never was.


	18. When He Sleeps: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one thing Aiden wants, it doesn't seem he can have.

Things had calmed considerably and Aiden almost hated it as much as he hated how peaceful Tea looked passed out on the couch, legs hanging over arm with his head in Grey's lap. Grey popped out to do something just before Aiden stepped fully into the room. Leaning on the wall, he folded his arms and watched the way the light fell across the giant. A shadow cast from the string dangling from Tea's fanged mouth looked like tar from this angle and Aiden almost felt tempted to walk over and wipe it off before realizing it was just an illusion.

He counted the number of times Tea had been asleep before him, vulnerable and undisturbed yet . . . on guard. Always on guard. In every instance Tea was always curled up like even his subconscious mind expected him to be kicked while down. This was the first time outside of the one moment he'd been seemingly dead and on the verge of falling apart where Tea didn't look like he was going to be attacked at any moment.

It occurred to Aiden it looked like he felt safe. Somehow that didn't bother him. If anything he expected the almost primal need to evoke panic in the other, but it didn't. He certainly didn't expect to be so stunned by how . . . human Tea looked. It was stupid. All Aiden had to do was look at the just visible points of his fangs and the giant's fingertips to know he wasn't human. He had always loathed how close the beast came to passing as someone like him. And yet . . . Aiden didn't feel the hatred toward the giant he once did. Hatred he still felt . . . but not at Tea.

He stepped towards the other, standing over him for several minutes. He remembered him smiling when they were much younger, Aiden just starting and Tea -- then Rowan -- being the almost too gentle elder Toy. Even then the Masters had had to know Tea was much too gentle a person. They took every opportunity they could to harden him and for a time they'd succeeded. Now their work was coming undone right before Aiden and all Aiden should be doing is taking advantage of it to get himself killed.

Instead he was running his fingers through hair that had been pulled, gripped, yanked far too many times than he could count. Funny. It never felt this soft whenever he'd jerked on it to garner a response from the other.

He pulled back in time to see Grey appear behind the couch. The weapons Master stiffened and was about to snap when Aiden declared, "Yeah yeah, hands off he's yours."

He was walking away when Grey murmured almost sadly, "Not entirely.” He hovered protectively over Tea, letting the other continue his sleep.

No, it wasn't Tea Aiden hated now. Not as much as perhaps he should, at least.


	19. Biting is Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An experimental piece for Tea and Aiden.
> 
> They get pretty sexual and frisky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is good smut. Yo.

Sometimes Aiden forgot that Tea was much larger than him. Usually it wasn't until the giant shoved the other into a wall that the message got through to him. This time he reminded Aiden who was bigger by pinning him to the bed for once.

Tugging Aiden's pants down, Tea's fists clenched around the waistband as he freed the other's member. Staring at it momentarily, he glanced up to see his partner's face scrunched in combined hesitation and need. Tea understood the hesitation. There was a reason they were both nervous about what he wanted to try. There were at least thirty-one very sharp reasons why they were nervous.

Tea's tongue darted out before he could fully consider what he was trying to accomplish, running up the length of the cock. Aiden's eyes fluttered closed as he threw his head back. Tea teased with his tongue, just running it up and down the human's member and pulling several stuttered gasps and moans from the man. Eventually Tea's shoulders stopped shaking and his hands stopped gripping the other's clothing enough for him to open wide and take the full length of his partner into his mouth. Aiden bucked up into him, inadvertently pressing against Tea's teeth just enough to feel them digging in. Aiden's eyes shot open and he let out an embarrassed cry before glaring at Tea. Tea lifted an eyebrow before gripping Aiden's hips in both hands and bobbing his head up and down a few times before pulling off slowly, tantalizingly. When Tea had released him, Aiden relaxed into the sheets before whining loudly. The sound turned to one of aggravation and Tea couldn't help but smile before wrapping his hand around Aiden's cock and pumping.

Before spreading Aiden's thighs further apart to sink his fangs into the sensitive inside of his left thigh. Aiden keened so loudly it was a wonder people hadn't started banging on the walls. Tea didn't dare close his eyes. He didn't want to miss one of the few times he'd actually been able to seize control of the other. Tea must try this again at some point.


	20. Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birthday gift for Liam's mun, Tea is never truly free of his master.

"I see what your little friend did." Wide eyes stared straight ahead as fingers traced the rough marks on Tea's neck where the brand once was. "Fan of fighting fire with fire, that one." Red nails scraped at Grey's attempt at burning the mark off the former Puppeteer's skin, Tea squirming out of Liam's hold only for the hand the encircle his throat while the other flattened against his abdomen and pulled him back against the Puppet Master's front. Tea sucked in a sharp breath, staving off shivers as painted fingers traced the black scars on his torso. "You honestly think it will be that easy to escape me."

Tea grit his teeth, shutting his eyes as the fingers ran along the lines where Tea had been gutted, where his heart had left his body, where he'd been scraped and torn and ripped open for daring to go against his Master. He tasted black blood on his tongue as he snarled through his fangs, "You're the one who's dead."

Liam hummed and shifted his hand, a wet kiss pressed to the once brand. "How long will that last, I wonder?"

Tea thrust forward to get out of the hold again, but failed again. Liam felt physically large. Larger than he remembered. Either that, or Tea was simply smaller. "What are you talking about?"

Liam hummed, finger tracing the scar where his arm had been about severed. "There are ways."

"I'll be damned!"

"Yes," Liam mused. "You will be." Lips and nose buried against the back of Tea's neck as the half skinwalker whimpered for the first time. His skin crawled. He wanted to get out, get away, wake up from this all too common nightmare. "I also see how you look at Aiden now." Nails dragged across Tea's marred chest and Tea shuddered. "Were I a certain someone else I might be jealous of your open affection." The hand stopped at the scar where Tea had torn out his heart to give to the aforementioned former Puppeteer. "I know better." Talons grew on Liam's hand and the palm on his throat pressed harder. "When I get back," those were not Relic's talons, "this," they were Tea's, "will still very much," and they were digging into him in search of his heart, "belong to me."

Just as a scream ripped from Tea's lungs, he woke up. Silence and darkness greeted him. Silence, darkness, and the warmth of Aiden's sleeping form. He curled around the other, needing that warmth. He needed it like breath.

Because he still felt Liam's cold against every inch of him.


	21. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Aiden has to be sure Tea is okay in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Surprise. It's smut.

"You okay?" Aiden asked, staring at Tea's reddened face as he pushed all the way into the other. Tea squeezed his eyes shut and cried out again, hand twisting in Aiden's hair as he bit his lip to keep from getting any louder. Aiden jerked forward slightly as Tea's claws brushed his scalp, somehow sheathing himself even deeper within the other. "Talk to me, kid," he pleaded, trying to keep the neediness in his tone to a minimum.

Tea squirmed, tightening around him before letting out several short gasps. "I'm okay," he said a bit too quickly for Aiden's tastes.

Aiden's forehead pressed to Tea's. "Don't believe you."

Tea nodded insistently, heels locking around the backs of the shorter's knees before he sputtered, "Please. Move. Please." He pressed several kisses to Aiden's face as he begged, making the other shudder and rock his hips back and forth. He moved slowly at first, Tea's still high pitched keens grating at his resolve. His reservations diminished entirely as he took the taller in his hand as he shifted his own hips.

The noises Tea made sealed the deal for him: he was definitely doing this with the giant again.


	22. Aphrodisiacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea somehow gets tied up and left with a heavy dose of aphrodisiacs in his system. Aiden is left to deal with the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking smut.

He'd seen Tea drink enough (of any beverage really) to know that this wasn't the kid's average high. "So um . . . you're tied to a bed." Tea whined. "And uh . . . shirtless. Somehow." Tea lifted his thankful-ly still clothed hips and let out a strange gasp he'd rarely heard from the giant. "And you're under the influence of . . . something." Aiden's ears grew hot as he stood over the writhing Tea, unsure of what to do. "How did um . . . this happen?" He swallowed hard.

Tea bucked his hips, the movement drawing Aiden's attention to the very noticeable bulge in the giant's pants. Glancing back at Tea's flushed, purple face proved to be even less helpful. Suddenly Aiden was even more uncomfortable standing so near the absolute last person he expected to have a dilemma quite like this. "D-don't know." Tea went still and let out an even louder whine that made Aiden's back arch and his eyes flutter shut. "It hurts."

"Where?"

Stupid question, Aiden thought as Tea whimpered and lifted his hips again, heels digging into the mat-tress as he pulled against the rope around his wrists. "P-please," Tea pined, eyes watering as he gazed agonizingly up at the ceiling.

Aiden's mouth went dry. "Please wh-- what do you want me to do, kid?" Stupid, another stupid fuck-ing question, he should be leaving Tea alone right about--

"Please help me," Tea begged, turning his dilated golden gaze on Aiden.

Fuck. That was the first thought that came to mind. It was . . . accurate in many ways.

"Kid, I . . .," he had no idea how to say this. Holding his hands up worriedly, he was ready to prattle off all the reasons why they shouldn't. Tea wasn't in his right mind. Tea didn't have the best experiences with stuff like this. Tea was vulnerable. Tea was lying prone in his--their bed. Tea was bound at the wrists and begging for him. Tea was incredibly, irresistibly turned on and ready for him. Jesus fuck, when did these reasons to not become reasons to just do it already?

Aiden was internally screaming.

"Aiden, please," Tea whined, rutting his hips upward as tears spilled from his eyes and suddenly Aiden didn't want to be anywhere else but between the other's legs.

Which was exactly where he wound up coincidentally. "Please don't hate me later," he pleaded as Tea let out a very loud cry of relief as Aiden bypassed teasing and got right to undressing Tea further.

The giant kept his hips raised, helping Aiden in his pursuit to undo his pants and yank them down. "Can't," Tea keened, "hate," he collapsed, mouth agape as he lay bare beneath Aiden. Member hard and leaking, Tea thrust up into the smaller's hands as they gripped Tea's hips.

He was going to hell and he couldn't even think of a good excuse to present in his favor. "I'm here Rowan," the name slipped and Aiden could have swallowed his tongue he was so embarrassed by it. But Tea only shuddered and bucked up more, encouraging Aiden to proceed.

Tea's mouth fell open in a silent scream as Aiden's mouth encircled his throbbing tip, back arching as the smaller's head started bobbing. Taking Tea in to the hilt, he kept Tea's hips still and listened to the ministrations of the giant whose legs tightened around Aiden's body as he drew out the heat in the taller's groin with his mouth. "Aiden," Tea whimpered, head rolling from side to side as Aiden almost choked on the giant's cock. Humming around it, he vaguely heard the telltale, "Oh God," coupled with a few failed consonants before the other was filling his mouth.

Aiden pulled back and tried very hard not to gag at the taste. Covering his mouth with one hand and Tea's somehow still fairly hard erection with the other, Aiden had to take in several deep breaths after swallowing to be sure he wasn't about to embarrass either of them any further. Of course, he then gasped out, "Rowan."

To which Tea answered, "Please. M-more."

Aiden stiffened. "More?" Tea keened out a confirmation coupled with another buck of his hips. With Aiden's name rolling off Tea's tongue, he was lost.

In a matter of moments, Aiden had scrambled about the bed and was back between Tea's legs, fingers thoroughly slicked by a substance before pushing into Tea's body slowly. The giant threw his head back, chest and neck and face such vibrant shades of purple that on any other being it would appear Aiden was killing them. The scars on Tea's body stood out as sweat spotted his already somewhat mottled skin, and Aiden couldn't help but kiss the marks he could reach as he stretched Tea.

Tea shuddered, rocking onto Aiden's hand and biting his lip from the need he felt. "Aiden . . . f-fuck . . . me."

He lost his breath kissing another of the taller's scars. "Rowan--"

"Please please just--"

"I don't want to hurt--"

"You won't, please," Tea pushed down onto Aiden's fingers roughly, hitting a spot that made him tremble and cry out wonderfully. With that cry came the words, "Fuck me."

He hadn't been able to say no up to this point. That didn't change. Pulling back to yank off his pants in most likely the least graceful way possible, Aiden was groaning at the sight of Tea just freely offering himself to him. Poised at his entrance now, his own member throbbing and hurting as he watched for any changes in Tea, he pushed in slowly.

And the combined relief, pleasure, and shock on the other's face might have sent him over the edge too soon if not for the good sense he'd had to pause and let Tea adjust. It wasn't long before Tea was ramming against Aiden, however, and it was a battle to keep some semblance of composure while moving inside the other. Aiden bit his lip, breath catching as he dared to thrust up into Tea. The screams he let out, the way he moved against Aiden, the manner in which he twisted his hands in the binds until his skin rubbed raw, had Aiden gasping and ready to burst long before he wanted to.

Much to his astonishment, Tea came again. And again, and again, and by the time the . . . whatever substance had put him in this state had worn off, Tea and Aiden were sweating, unmoving messes.  
Aiden lay beside Tea, muscles aching and eyes closed. He still saw clearly the way Tea twisted in his binds behind closed eyes, and he both moaned and cringed at the thought of moving anytime soon. Draped across the still tired giant, they panted almost in unison as sweat made their hair cling to their faces.

Tea turned his head and brushed his lips over Aiden's closed eye, the other shifting despite the aches to kiss Tea. Lips locked for what felt like several minutes, Aiden pulled back only to ask, "Sure you don't hate me?"

Tea miraculously still had the ability to fluster and stammer out, "I c-can't."

Aiden relaxed against him, wondering vaguely at whether or not this level of exhaustion could get them a day off. He grinned mischievously. "Your housemates probably do."

There was a moment of silence. Then Tea's eyes shot wide.


	23. Take it Off: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea has flashbacks in the middle of something with Aiden. Sometimes traumas get in the way.

Please don't make me do this.

The words hung on his lips as he stared at his hands. The scene was different from the last time he'd undressed like this. He was standing at the foot of a different bed, in a different edifice entirely, with a different person entirely. Still his hands were shaking, fingertips frozen over the button. He was shirtless and he couldn't. Move. Not. Anymore. He just stopped.

His lips trembled as Aiden sat up on the bed. "Rowan?"

Tea broke, grimacing as the tears started falling and he lost all the desire he'd been riding on until this point. "Please help me," he asked under his breath, afraid of crumbling any further.

The bed creaked as Aiden edged closer. "Hey," he uttered. "Hey kid, we don't," Tea flinched as hands rose to cup his face, "we don't have to do this." Tea wound up leaning into Aiden's hands instead of pulling away, closing his eyes and soaking in the warmth.

There was no blade at his throat. There was not looming threat of being torn apart. He was choosing this. This was his choice.

So why did he feel so disgusting?

Aiden pulled him into a tight hold that Tea welcomed. The other's arms encircled him and he leaned against his bare chest. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to fight the sobs. He failed. Gripping Aiden's sides fearfully, he wasn't there yet. He just wasn't able to do this on his own, undress without . . . he couldn't.

"I'm s-sorry," he breathed against Aiden's shoulder.

"Me too, kid," Aiden whispered, rubbing Tea's back. "Me too."


	24. Little Shit Rowan: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea didn't entirely grow out of messing with Aiden. Aiden is not above reminding him he can still shove Tea in the trash.

Several years had come to pass and many things between Rowan (now Tea) and Aiden had changed. Things were difficult and strained and almost always edged with hurt and pain.

But one morning when Tea dumped a pot of the day old beverage he'd been named after on Aiden's head out of aggravation, something kicked in and he was picking the giant up and carrying him out of the manor. "Aiden what the fuck?!"

"How old are you again?" he asked as he moved.

Tea struggled in his hold, squirming and writhing as he snarled, "What--why?!"

Aiden answered for him. "Not too old to get shoved in the trash."

Tea kicked, but didn't make contact with Aiden. He grabbed at his shirt, but no talons bit his skin. "You can't just--"

"Can, have, will."

"I won't fit!"

"Maybe not in a regular trash can," Aiden stopped on front of the dumpster out back, lifting the lid.

"Don't you fucking do it. Don't you--," Tea was cut off as Aiden lifted and shoved him into the bin. He clung to the edges, head, hands, and one leg sticking over the metal side to keep Aiden from just closing the lid on him. "I swear to God," one of Tea's hands shot out to grab a fistful of Aiden's shirt, "I will take you with me!"

Aiden pulled against the hand all the while shoving Tea into the dumpster. The giant fought hard, clinging steadfast to the side. Then a voice interrupted them with, "What are you two doing now?"

Aiden looked back at the glaring (most likely glaring) cult leader. Tea began with, "He just--"

"I'm taking out the garbage," Aiden cut him off.

The three were still for a long moment. Until Tapi turned away and said, "Carry on."

"Goddam--!" Tea screeched as Aiden finally succeeded in shoving him into the dumpster and closing the lid.

Listening carefully, he could just hear the giant chuckling inside.


	25. Lend Me Your Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden notices something rather odd about Tea when he vocalizes.

Aiden stared at the giant’s head in suspicion one day when a dove coo had escaped Tea’s lips. He thought he’d seen it . . . had he? He could have been imagining things. It wasn’t beyond him to imagine things about Tea. Eyes narrowed on the half skinwalker’s head, he pondered and pondered whether he’d seen what he had thought he’d seen.

Tea turned his head, expression turning from somewhat relaxed to taken aback. “What’s wrong?” he asked, misreading Aiden’s face as anger. Then he covered his mouth and started to apologize. “I’m sor-ry, I forgot—”

“No,” Aiden stopped him, holding a hand up reassuringly. Granted, Tea had every right to be concerned. Whenever he sounded off or spoke in any language not human, Aiden tended to react negatively. This time however, Aiden asked, “Do it again?”

Tea stared for a moment longer, bemused and questioning Aiden’s logic. He was nervous. Aiden felt it in his chest that Tea was concerned about being so open about his skinwalker traits with him. But ultimately he glanced up at the treetops he’d been so focused on before and started speaking to the birds once more. Aiden’s eyes widened as each time Tea let out a chirp his pointed ears wiggled just the slightest bit. They twitched, moving up and down each time Tea sang. The smile that spread across Aiden’s face was almost manic, and he flushed when Tea looked at him again. Tea squinted and smiled nervously back at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he responded with a small chuckle. Scooting closer and wrapping a hand around Tea’s head, he pulled the giant down to place a kiss on one of his ears. The purple that tinted Tea’s cheeks made him kiss the pointed ear again before he whispered into it, “I’m great.”

Tea hummed and leaned into him before he continued singing with the small birds, Aiden running a finger over the shell of his wiggling ear as he smiled down at the other.


	26. High as Kites: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constant Comment does strange things to Tea, and one of those strange things includes making him extra cozy with the rightfully named Dicksquad. Jinx edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hella smut

Leland left them unattended. That didn’t happen often, and he probably would have really enjoyed what unfolded if he were present. Either that, or he might have kept their heads straight and made them realize they were not in their right minds for the activities that occurred. Both seemed likely. But Leland was not there.

And Tea was high as fuck.

Constant Comment tasted wonderful, but it left his head spinning on just one cup. A whole pot in and he was a giggling and sweating mess. Stumbling through the lovely home, he had needed this. He had needed to lose focus. Things had been difficult since waking up and despite all the kind cultists who had shown him some sympathy, there were plenty others who had yet to even look at him. One person had been giving him grief, and he just . . . he needed to chill.

Climbing clumsily over the back of the couch before rolling off of it again, he landed on the floor laughing. His head was fuzzy. His fingertips felt funny. His insides were light and this was just perfect. He loved this. He suddenly felt the urge to climb, explore, roam about and appreciate the scents and sounds of freedom. But even the floors of this home seemed soft to him all of a sudden, and he found himself curling up on the floor and purring like a giant cat.

Someone curled up beside him and he didn’t even jump. He lazily rolled over to greet one of the members of the so-called Boyfriend Army (an army he was surprisingly very comfortable in). Jinx, the rabbit eared creature, one who had also treated him kindly and taken him in when he had needed it, looked just as blitzed as he felt. “Hi,” he murmured to the cultist almost drunkenly, grinning stupidly and not even considering the fact that he had fangs and might scare the other for once.

Jinx hummed loudly, almost like the purring Tea was still unintentionally doing. The cultist slid closer to Tea, a leg rubbing up and over one of Tea’s as unseeing eyes seemed to focus in on Tea. Then the cultist began muttering against Tea’s chest in a language Tea definitely did not understand, and soon the words were replaced with small kisses along Tea’s chest and neck.

Tea knew in his head that normally this would strike a chord in his muscles. He should be pushing the other off now. But the tea and the . . . whatever grass smelling substance Jinx was high on (the more Jinx touched him the more he felt the secondhand high and oh it was so good) left every brush of fingers and lips feeling like fucking . . . he didn’t know. It wasn’t electricity, like the invasion of another’s negative emotions. It wasn’t fire, like the invasion of another’s unrequited desires. But it sparked and it heated, it set him ablaze and buzzed all through him and he wanted it. He wanted more of it.

Jinx was slowly crawling more and more on top of him, whispering between kisses as Tea’s hands started running over the other’s back, down his sides, to his hips. Soon Tea had shifted Jinx fully on top of himself and pressed his lips to Jinx’s. He didn’t know what was possessing him to do it, but it felt wonderful. It felt electric, fiery, wonderful, his head was spinning faster and faster and it was delightful in so many ways. Jinx kissed back hard, groaning as Tea purred louder. There was a tightness in his groin, one he knew but had rarely, so rarely welcomed and Jinx was brushing against it. Their lips moved together and Tea let out a low thrumming noise that was neither a purr nor growl. So fucking high. He was so high and he didn’t want to come down, didn’t want to think about what happened after or how this might hurt him.

Jinx pulled away, sitting up straight to ride against Tea’s erection. Jinx’s hands slid to Tea’s zip and Tea didn’t stop him, didn’t feel the need to. He gasped and purred and bucked, letting Jinx reach in and pull his member free. He started to murmur his concerns, the only ones that seemed relevant. He didn’t want to hurt Jinx. He had claws, no ability to prepare the other, he was . . . .

He was at Jinx’s mercy as the cultist hummed out another sentence in alleged gibberish and began tonguing him. Tea’s eyes shot wide at the warm and wet mouth, slicking him up and drawing him in with purrs and growls that vibrated against his—oh God he had to keep his hips still or he was going to grind against Jinx’s head. He let out a canine whine as Jinx pulled away, string of saliva linking that warm mouth back to Tea’s throbbing cock. Before Tea could miss the warmth of Jinx’s mouth, the cultist was straddling his lips once more and sinking down onto Tea’s member. Tea thrust up and let out a howl as he filled Jinx, the other’s mouth falling open. Jinx’s brow furrowed and a growl slipped the cultist’s mouth, the shifting of hips cuing Tea to move. Tea did, warmth and electricity and sparks igniting his whole body as he responded to Jinx’s growls with growls of his own. His eyes snapped open and glowed a bright gold as he bucked sporadically, running clawed hands over Jinx’s thighs and sides and letting his talons dig in just lightly enough to tell Jinx they were there. Jinx panted, riding Tea faster as the half skinwalker speared the cultist. Jinx’s body shuddered over him and soon the cultist was stilling above Tea.

Tea’s purring did not cease as Jinx curled up in his arms, still mumbling desperately in that strange tongue. Tea continued running his hands over Jinx’s body, soothing the cultist to sleep as Tea wrapped protectively around the smaller. Kissing and rubbing his face over Jinx’s, he tucked his head between the other’s ears until he felt the other drifting off in his arms. Purring, his eyes were still alight as he carefully shifted Jinx in his arms and lifted the both of them up off the ground. Head still spinning, Tea carried the still humming but otherwise quiet and still cultist to a much more comfortable bed for rest.


	27. High as Kites: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constant Comment does strange things to Tea, and one of those strange things includes making him extra cozy with the rightfully named Dicksquad. Nicoli edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hella smut

That Nicoli had been rolling in foxglove earlier was beside the point. That he found a half-naked Tea in Leland’s kitchen drinking tea (Constant Comment by the smell of it) straight from the pot was what had really made him tilt his head to the side in interest. Scars lined the Chandelier’s torso, making him look like one of those pots that had been shattered and sealed back together by gold. Only the gold was black and the half skinwalker . . . .

Tea flushed a very deep purple that spread down his neck and chest as he turned to greet Nicoli, setting the now empty pot back down on the stove. Tea’s eyes were alight and his smile was . . . Nicoli felt the needy whimper that left his lips before he heard it. Staring into those eyes, he felt a heat within himself that grew much more intense and much quicker as a result of the foxglove. And if he were truly being honest with himself, he’d have to say Tea looked just as dazed on the tea he was drinking as Nicoli felt.

Tea hunched over then, pressing clawed finger to his lips as he started giggling. “People are sleeping,” he stage whispered.

Nicoli grinned back, heat creeping up his neck as the shirtless giant moved closer. Nicoli held a finger to his lips too, his own chuckle escaping as they huddled together in the kitchen like it was a secret they were on cloud nine at the moment. They giggled, and before Nicoli knew it the Chandelier was wrapping his arms around him and drawing him into an embrace so warm and affectionate that Nicoli pressed up into and against the half skinwalker’s body like he could just melt into him and become one. Warm, his pale, purple, and black skin was so warm. Nicoli’s feathers started to stand on end slowly, the siren’s hands slipping up to Tea’s neck and head before pulling the Chandelier into a kiss as warm as the other seemed. It was brief, and the sharp intake of breath from the taller made Nicoli pull away and whisper, “I should say sorry, shouldn’t I?”

He was answered by a gentle purring that made his large chest vibrate pleasantly. When Nicoli glanced up at Tea’s still lit eyes, he shuddered and whimpered again at the almost desperate look the half skinwalker was giving him. “Please,” Tea muttered as he pressed a hand to one of Nicoli’s, trapping it against his cheek, “don’t stop.” Nicoli gasped as Tea uncharacteristically ground his hips against Nicoli’s. “I think . . . I like being touched like this.” The revelation sounded almost innocent rolling off of Tea’s tongue, and the blush and crease of his brow went hand in hand with the thought.

Nicoli couldn’t help the grin at how sweet this seemed, deciding to pull away. He almost ran right back to Tea’s arms at the whine and pout the giant gave him. “Let’s play first,” Nicoli whispered mirthfully. He watched Tea’s eyes widen in realization as Nicoli sauntered closer to the kitchen counter, slipping his shirt off, teasing the giant by revealing his body ever so slowly. When he raised the shirt above his head and let it fall to the ground, he turned lazily to put his back to the Chandelier. Hooking his thumbs on his bottoms, he slid them down just as slowly and leaned forward as the bottoms lowered, presenting his ass to Tea perfectly. Now completely naked before the other, he turned back around to see how he had enticed the Chandelier.

And was met face to face with a shockingly feral Tea who lifted the siren and placed him on the counter. Nicoli gasped, hands shooting up to grasp Tea’s shoulders as the giant peppered his neck and chest with kisses. Nicoli ran his fingers through Tea’s hair, hyperaware of the snarls slipping past the half skinwalker’s lips as his mouth ventured south. Nicoli started leaning back, losing balance as Tea’s mouth found its target. A tongue ran down Nicoli’s length and back up again and the siren fell back, head dangling over the counter’s edge as he reached back to grip said edge. He let out a whine of his own as Tea’s mouth slid back down Nicoli’s member and then proceeded to go lower. The next thing Nicoli knew, he was keening and crying out at the half skinwalker’s tongue sliding into him. It circled and probed and Tea’s hands spread Nicoli’s thighs wider and Nicoli was hot. He was so hot, his whole body bucking and blazing and he just wanted more, more than the tongue, more of Tea. He let out a loud, avian wail, completely forgetting that they had started off so quiet. 

He was astonished that Tea responded to said whine as if he understood it as though he’d spoken English. Drawing his head away from Nicoli’s groin, he looked up with hooded, glowing eyes and pressed a cheek to the inside of one of the siren’s thighs. “Say it aloud?” Tea asked, nuzzling Nicoli’s thigh before kissing it.

Nicoli complied. “Fuck . . . me. Please.”

Tea crawled up Nicoli’s body then, and something hot and hard pressed against his core before pushing in. Nicoli arched against Tea and gave another shout, again clutching the giant’s shoulders but this time digging nails into that pale, purpling skin. He glanced up at Tea and saw a sharp, lupine grin staring back at him before the half skinwalker started moving within him and he was screaming. 

Tea’s thrusts were unforgiving as clawed hands clutched the siren’s hips, his lips greedy as he ensnared Nicoli’s mouth with his. Nicoli’s ears filled with the growls and sounds of a dog, and it was actually hard connecting those noises to Tea. So quiet normally. So sincere. Who knew he was a . . . a beast?

Nicoli threw his head back as he shook under the other, completely thrown off guard by his actions and yet . . . he felt so good. Tea’s palms slid up, gliding over sweat slicked flesh as he dragged his mouth over Nicoli’s mouth, jaw, and neck. Tea held him as they fought to catch their breath, then uttered quietly, “I like this.” He kissed Nicoli’s collarbone. “Like it a lot.”

Nicoli smiled up at him. “Good.”


	28. High as Kites: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leland helps with the aftereffects of Tea's encounter with Constant Comment.

Tea’s eyes rolled around in their sockets before he woke up in a bed of warmth. He sniffed, snuggling closer to . . . .

His eyes opened slowly to be round as saucers, nose buried between a pair of rabbit ears. He his head, which then came in contact with a feathered nape. Tea stared straight up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking as he got a full picture of who he was tangled up with. Jinx was lying with his head tucked in the crook of his neck, arm thrown lazily over Tea’s chest. His arm was currently a pillow for Nicoli’s head, the siren’s back pressed snugly against Tea’s side.

Tea lay still, assessing himself. There was no pain. That was . . . that was good. He didn’t feel like he’d been used. Then again, he was incredibly . . . relaxed, to say the least. He felt loose, his head felt clouded and—

The memories of what he’d done while tea high had him extracting himself from the two. He needed air, needed cool, he was hot and surrounded and he—

He sat up successfully, holding his hands up and bracing like he was about to fight off a would be assailant. Glancing around the bedroom, he felt dizzy. Looking back down at the still sleeping pair he pulled the covers back gently. They didn’t look like he had hurt them. Judging by the way they had been lying with him, they would wake up feeling as wonderful as he had.

He hoped they didn’t start to have meltdown he was trying to stave off. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and tried to breathe. That was the goal. Breathe. Be calm. They were fine. He was fine. They had had a wonderful time, and nothing was wrong. He was. Fine.

He was thinking maybe he should shift around in the bed, lie back down and curl around both of them protectively. He hated that something as irrelevant as a nagging voice in his head was telling him not to. Tea started digging his claws into his hands, telling the voice to be quiet. He hadn’t hurt them. They hadn’t hurt him. They had not hurt him. Why insist that they did when clearly they had not? Why insist that he did—?

“Looks like you had a good time last night.” 

Tea glanced up slowly, finding Leland standing in the doorway with a smile too radiant for Tea at the moment. Letting his head fall back down, he murmured, “I did.” He was on the verge of ruining it in his own head, however. “I did,” he reiterated to himself more than to Leland.

There was a stillness in the air before the bed dipped and Leland’s warm hands were wrapping around his. “Come on,” the forest guardian whispered, pulling Tea forward and off the bed.

“What about—?” Tea began.

He was silenced by Leland pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “Look at them.” Tea did, and he found Jinx now curling around Nicoli. Both were smiling. “We’ll come back to them.” Tea nodded, then let Leland pull him out of the bed and the room completely. Leading him through the house, Leland wrapped an arm gently around Tea’s waist held him close. Tea soaked in Leland’s warmth, a warmth he was sometimes still reluctant to take pleasure in. He needed only to look at the faint scar on Leland’s chest to remind himself why he had no right. In that moment, Leland was grounding him. He couldn’t let go if he wanted to. Led to the kitchen sink, Leland fixed him a glass of water. Before he could ask, Leland said, “It’ll help. I promise.”

Tea stood there with the glass of water, standing before Leland with his back to the counter. He sighed, trying to stomach the idea of consuming anything other than tea. Eyes locking on Leland’s face, he watched the other as he drank the water. He quickly grew upset with himself for getting sick over water of all things, but he drank it anyways. It hit his gut hard, the cold not unfamiliar but certainly not what he was used to anymore. When he got through the glass, he set it down and pushed it aside before leaning against the taller cultist. Resting his head in the crook of Leland’s neck, he let his hands rest on his chest as the forest guardian wrapped his arms comfortingly around him. The water felt heavy inside him, a stark contrast to the heat of the other. Hands balling into fists against Leland’s chest, he bit his lip. Then he asked, “Rem-member the um . . . the first . . . ?”

Saving him from the embarrassment of trying to finish the sentence, Leland nodded against Tea’s head. “I do.” One of his hands slid up Tea’s upper arm lightly as Leland kissed his forehead again. Tea closed his eyes against the cultist’s lips, then listened as he pointed out, “You were shaking.” His voice lowered, turning solemn. “I guess now I know why.”

Tea squeezed his eyes shut tighter, biting his lip harder. He thought back on the memory, remembering how nervous he had been. Nervous like it really was his first time. Leland was so slow and gentle at first, talking to him and making sure he wasn’t in pain. He’d been so damn surprised, he was actually being acknowledged in the act and he mattered. What he wanted had mattered. He hadn’t known he could feel so . . . amazing. He’d almost panicked in the middle of it, when he started sounding off and couldn’t get himself to quiet down. Leland had been so enamored of the noises he looked for new ways to get Tea to vocalize. Leland had been so wonderful, so kind, so caring.

It had been absolute hell to go back to Lance and Liam.

“I wish I could just enjoy this.” His throat threatened to close as Leland’s arms constricted around him.

“Who says you can’t?”

Tea beat back the tears that wanted to come, succumbing to Leland’s warmth in spite of his reservations. “My head.”

Leland slid a palm under Tea’s chin and made the half skinwalker look up at him. “Your head is wrong.” Then the forest guardian’s lips were brushing his. “You can enjoy this.” Another kiss. “There’s no one you have to go back to. No one here who is going to hurt you.” A third kiss, one much deeper and reassuring. Tea melted against Leland, still one of the kindest people he had ever known. “You’re safe now.” Another deep kiss. “And we love you.” Tea slid his arms around Leland’s shoulders as the taller pressed him gently into the counter, mouth moving against Tea’s slowly and lovingly. Love, so much love and adoration poured from Leland into him. The shock of touching someone and feeling them return the affection he felt for them never got old. It always left his heart racing and his head spinning, reminding him that he was not and never had been a Puppeteer. Tea was a Chandelier of the Candle Cult. His home was here.

Crawling back into bed with Nicoli and Jinx, Leland lay beside Nicoli while Tea lay with Jinx. Settling in on either side of the smaller cultists, Leland and Tea wrapped their long arms around both those in the middle. Resting their palms on each other, Tea smiled as Leland kissed the top of Nicoli’s head and one of Jinx’s ears smacked the half skinwalker in the face. The four snuggled together, a chorus of hums reaching Tea’s ears as they slowly drifted off again together.

He went back to sleep purring.


	29. You Chose Poorly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan tries to free himself by killing Liam. His plan backfires horribly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredible implications of non-con but nothing shown.

He’d come to the decision that if Liam wouldn’t let him go or let him die, there was only one other way out. Claws hovering over Liam’s exposed throat, he looked over his master as he slept. His hand was shaking. He shouldn’t be hesitating. He should be able to do this easily. Wasn’t that what skinwalkers did? That’s what everyone said he was capable of. Then why couldn’t he do it?

 

The last thing he remembered before a pair of gigantic golden eyes came flapping towards him was a screech so loud his ears were still ringing when he woke up. And when he woke up, he could neither hear anything, see anything, nor move. His wrists strung up above his head and his eyes covered, his heart started racing as soon as he felt the fuzziness in his ears. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. Tugging at his wrists, he only managed to make the rope burn his skin. It was when he started to twist and really struggle that he realized his nudity.

 

He started shaking as pure terror gripped him.

 

He started shouting. He started sounding off and he couldn’t stop. He felt the strain on his vocal cords, but heard nothing. He was deaf, blind, and for all he knew he was mute too. He could do nothing to help himself.

 

Just as he thought his throat was going to bleed from the voracity with which he was sounding off, something was forced between his teeth. It gagged him, tongue trapped under the hard object as someone stood with their front to his back tying the gag in place. The corners of his mouth were already sore from the tightness of the gag against his lips, his teeth digging painfully into what felt like wood. He bit down so hard he felt it splinter and pinch his tongue.

 

Then he felt a mouth against his shoulder and knew the gag was only the beginning.

 

\--

 

Five days. That seemed long enough to let Rowan hang from the ceiling by his wrists. That seemed enough time for other Masters (and Toys) to wander in as they pleased and see what a disobedient puppet looked like. That seemed enough time for those he allowed to punish Rowan as they saw fit. He was sure to exclude those he knew would kill him for this level of betrayal. He refused Rowan that solace. He’d sought death ever since realizing how cruel a Master Liam truly was.

 

Standing before Rowan, he ordered the binds holding him up be cut. The half skinwalker dropped like a sack of potatoes, landing hard on the ground. Muscles likely stretched beyond numbness, Tea had since regained his hearing from Relic’s deafening screech. However, his body had suffered much worse injuries.

 

Drenched in his own blood, which pooled under him and encrusted wounds inflicted on him from the first day of punishment onward, Liam didn’t hesitate to wrap a firm hand around one of the monster’s biceps. His puppet flinched, but did not pull away. Good. He’d learned that pulling away only worsened the pain. That was a stipulation he’d placed on all those allowed access to Rowan during this time: should he struggle, do whatever it is one is doing harsher. Rowan lacked respect. Liam was going to drive it home in his head before he ever decided to give the half skinwalker the release he so desperately wanted.

 

Liam eyed the myriad of claw and bite marks along the monster’s back and chest. His thighs and hips equally marked up, he grinned at the very beautifully carved ‘L’ in Rowan’s calf muscle. A gift from Lance, he presumed.

 

Getting Rowan up off the ground was a trying act. As was getting him to walk in a straight line. Yes, he imagined it was very difficult to walk after Lance (and perhaps some others) got a hold of him, but Liam was telling him to move and if he didn’t he clearly did not learn his lesson.

 

Rowan made more effort to obey him now than ever before. Good. Very good. He now knew that compliance meant no pain. Bringing him to Liam’s own private quarters, where Rowan might have successfully slit his throat if not for Relic, Liam drew a lukewarm bath for his puppet. Before urging Rowan into the tub, he took a warm cloth and had him stand over the drain in a separate shower stall. He watched as Rowan shook, small whimpers slipping past tight lips as he remained blindfolded and at the mercy of the other in control. Rinsing the majority of the blood from the wounds, he decided it best not to pollute the bathwater with red but so much. Liam focused more on wiping up the blood on his puppet’s body than actually cleaning the deep cuts left behind by the other Puppeteers. He would clean them while Rowan was in the bath. Rowan flinched as Liam ran the cloth over the deeper cuts. Liam tossed aside the first rag and had to fetch a second and a third to get Rowan clean enough that he could get him in the water.

 

When he finally had Rowan in the tub and was gently soaping and rinsing the injuries, Rowan leaning on the edge of the tub trying to alleviate some of the pain sitting was causing him, Liam finally removed the blindfold. Then and only then did Rowan realize it was him behind the care. When Rowan finally blinked enough to focus, he shrank. He made himself seem as small as possible in the tub, almost like he would rather drown than face Liam. Liam stared at his puppet coldly, appraising how even after cleaning the other he was still covered in black, purple, and yellow bruises. They gathered on his abdomen primarily, but were not restricted to that region.

 

Reaching out to run a hand through Rowan’s wet hair, Liam shushed him before he started whimpering again. Before he could say anything about his transgressions. Hand carding through his hair, Liam then slid his red fingernails lightly down Rowan’s cheek and jaw before cupping his chin. Rowan’s eyes were closed and his teeth were grit, but he did not flinch or pull away. Liam was almost driven to smile at that small triumph.

 

His voice was calm and smooth as he spoke. “Do you still not see that I am the only thing keeping you safe now?” Rowan didn’t respond. Liam didn’t need him to. “Do you still not see I am the kindest of the Masters you could have had?” Tears started rolling down Rowan’s cheeks, and the puppet’s body tensed as his head rested in Liam’s hand. Liam took that as resignation. “Did I deserve this betrayal you were so ready to go through with?” He waited for an answer this time.

 

Rowan was still for many moments before he let out a pained gasp, followed by a very quiet, agonized, “No Master.” The tears gushed from Rowan’s eyes in rivers as his face sank further into Liam’s hand.

 

“Do you doubt me when I say I am your only protection from a crueler fate?” He could almost hear Rowan’s throat locking on the words Liam wanted to hear from the half skinwalker. When they did not come, he probed, “You doubt me still?”

 

Another gasp. Another pained, “No Master.” Rowan drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Liam allowed him this movement, but kept his hand firmly on the puppet’s chin. “I don’t, Master,” Rowan said a little stronger this time.

 

Liam did smile then. Moving his hand back to card fingers through wet hair, he whispered, “Very good, boy.” Rowan sank further in on himself as Liam continued to bathe him and wash his wounds. “Good boy,” he reiterated as he continued his task.

 

A red nail traced the brand on Rowan’s neck gently. He was pleased to see no one had disturbed it during Rowan’s five day punishment. So long as Rowan was his, Liam would never see it altered. So long as Rowan’s neck bore that brand, Rowan belonged to him.


	30. Red Peppermint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimms has a bloody encounter with Tea's heartless alter ego.

“If I drink your blood, will you taste as minty as you smell,” Tea murmured, pressing Grimms into the wall. Black blood spilled down his bare stomach, a gaping wound where the Chandelier’s heart had been torn out. Tea pressed his mouth to Grimms’s ear, whispering harshly, “Can I brush my teeth with you?”

 

“Try it, you sick—,” Grimms was cut off by the heartless Tea’s fangs penetrating the skin on his shoulder. Grimms struggled to twist out of Tea’s hold, the half skinwalker having grown an extra set of limbs, third eye, and two feet taller to pin the now smaller cultist. Hardly anyone made Grimms feel small. Right then, Tea made him feel microscopic.

 

Tea pulled away with, smacking his lips together as Grimms’s blood dribbled from his mouth down his chin and neck. “Minty fresh!” the half skinwalker purred, eyes alight as he gave Grimms a grin that split his face like a Jack-o-lantern. “My mouth feels so clean.”

 

“Really?” Grimms griped. Then he retorted, “Let’s see how fruity you taste.”

 

The Chandelier jolted as Grimms then bit into his chest and took a long pull on Tea’s obsidian life force. Instead of a yowl, which he honestly had wanted to hear from the other giant, he was met with the pants and moans of a man who enjoyed the feeling of teeth in his skin. Ripping a chunk of flesh from Tea’s torso as he pulled back, he spit it back into Tea’s face. That fucking grin was still plastered on his fucking face and Grimms glared up at him. “Have a nice bite there, kid?” Tea teased between gasps. Before Grimms could provide a good comeback, Tea declared, “I’ve been meaning to have someone for dinner.”

 

Grimms couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from his lungs as Tea bit his neck, sucking on the opened wound and loudly swallowing down what spilled from Grimms’s body. He writhed, trying to pull his wrists from Tea’s grip before melting into the other’s grip and mouth. A flush crawled up his neck and face, and he didn’t fight as hard as Tea sucked a gigantic, torn bruise on his neck. “Stop,” he muttered, the pain of the suction getting to him before he could help himself.

 

Tea’s mouth only withdrew partially, lingering over the bite and bruise as his hot breath blew across it. “Are you sure?” Grimms couldn’t answer. He choked. “I think you like it.” He started to shake his head, but stilled as Tea’s fangs grazed his throat once more. He stilled and shivered, closing his eyes while his gut twisted.

 

He flushed hotter. “I said stop.”

 

Tea dragged his lips from the wound and up the side of Grimms’s face before whispering against his temple. “Is there something you want, monsterboy?” Grimms didn’t answer, was almost afraid to. Tea dragged his lips over his face again, and Grimms was thrown off guard as Tea pressed a deceptively gentle kiss to his flushed cheek. “Your flesh has a smoky taste,” the heartless Chandelier mused. “You’re sure you don’t want anything? Anything at all?”

 

Grimms’s tongue twisted in an effort to speak, but it wouldn’t. Squeezing his eyes shut against the other’s lips, he requested, “My hands.”

 

Tea hummed. “What are you gonna do with them?”

 

“What do you care, you have four!” he snapped.

 

Tea snorted, loosening his grip. “I’ll give them to you.” Just as Grimms thought he was going to slip free of Tea, talons dug into his wrists and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. “For a price of course.”

 

“What?!” Grimms retorted.

 

“Give us some sugar, kiddo.”

 

He was confused. “Sugar?”

 

“Just a smooch. A snog. A little lip lock.” Then Tea whispered, “A kiss.”

 

Grimms glanced up at Tea, mortified by the suggestion. Kissing a mouth covered in his own blood . . . his stomach flip-flopped again.

 

But he wanted his hands free. He wanted to be free, to get away. He had to get away.

 

One kiss. That would get him away.

 

Swallowing his resolve, he pressed his own bloody lips to Tea’s bloodier ones. What he was met with was not a ‘smooch.’ It was a full-blown snog.

 

Tea’s mouth assaulted his and what he thought was a flush before was now a goddamn fever. The Chandelier’s lips moved over his, forcing them open as his tongue dove into him without fear of being bitten. Grimms could have bitten him, could have returned the favor a second time. Instead, he was succumbing to the moans that betrayed him, his body was betraying him.

 

He didn’t even realize his hands were free until his fists were clenched in Tea’s hair.

 

Claws dragged over his clothed torso, four hands wandering over him and crushing him against Tea’s body. When Tea pulled back, Grimms’s lips were bruised and he. Was. Pissed.

 

And also too dazed to punch the bastard. “Fucker,” he growled.

 

“Is that an invitation?”

 

It was at that precise moment Grimms socked the heartless Tea in the balls.


	31. A Bone to Pick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash's and Tea's relationship is built on helping a friend in need. Tea has a teething issue and Ash provides a solution.
> 
> A pleasantly platonic ship.

Tea was teething something awful when Ash skipped up to him. “Try this!” she said cheerily.

 

He looked at the bone in her hands, somewhat disturbed that she had simply procured it without so much as blinking. He was even more disturbed that she looked so proud to have it. “That’s . . . not—”

 

“Oh no! Don’t be silly,” she brushed off his concern that it was human. “I think it’s actually from a deer.”

 

He stared at the bone before taking it from her hands. She clasped her palms behind her back, shifting from one foot to another and waiting for him to actually make use of her offering. His brow knitted together as he looked on at her. “It’s clean and all?”

 

“Well, look at it.” He did, and it looked . . . chewable.

 

His jaw really did hurt. He really should gnaw on something before his tongue and lips suffered from this monthly teething issue. Bringing the bone up to his lips, he bit down on the end and . . . .

 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he sighed contentedly. Fangs scraping pleasantly over the thick bone, he gave Ash a half-lidded expression of thanks before actually muttering with the thing still in his mouth, “Perfect.”

 

She squealed happily and ran off, leaving him on the couch to gnaw away at the bone. He sighed and closed his eyes. Thank God, he thought to himself. His teeth had been aching so terribly, he had needed to chew on something that could take his mouth. The pleasure mounted when the bone relieved the ache in his talons, which had been begging to scratch at something for the same amount of time.

 

Sometimes he really hated his body and its needs. Other times, he was glad to have someone like Ash there to make sure he saw to those needs.


	32. Red Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartless Tea encounters an entity equally heartless at the moment. He finds a companion in this twisted version of Leland.

“I am officially a tree hugger.”

 

“You are officially pissing me off.”

 

The heartless Tea gave the equally heartless Leland a terrifying grin. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me?” he asked, his hold constricting on Leland. “I thought I was nothing to you.”

 

Leland sneered in disgust. “You’re an affront to nature. And Tea is,” he pursed his lips angrily. A snarl grew in his chest and it made the heartless inch closer to him, as close as possible. “He is dead to me.”

 

Tea hummed. “I am so pleased you recognize that I am not him.” And that he’d caught Leland with a lack of humanity. “I should reward you.”

 

“You should get the fuck off of me. Get off, leave me alone.”

 

Tea did not. He swept Leland’s feet from under him and let the forest guardian hit the ground. Leland landed with a grunt and soon Tea was straddling his waist. He pinned Leland’s hands above his head and Leland let out a bellowing growl at him. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

 

“Get off!” Leland cried, writhing under Tea. “Get off, get off, get off!”

 

“You know,” Tea ignored Leland’s protests, face nearing his again, “Your freckles are rather pretty.” His breath blew across Leland’s face as he stared at the glowing marks. Leland’s teeth were gritting, hollow eyes glaring up at him. “Does your blood glow the way they do?”

 

“If you draw one single, fucking drop—”

 

“You’ll cut me?” Leland stilled under him and a lightbulb went off in Tea’s brain. “Would you like that?” Leland glared, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t bite out a nasty comment. He did grit his teeth. His breathing did suddenly grow ragged. This made Tea’s grin widen further.

 

Leland’s arms were loose in his grip, so he pulled one of the forest guardian’s clawed hands up to his throat. Eyeing the cultist, he offered his throat to him. There were plenty of veins Leland could sever, and Tea wouldn’t be phased. Placing the hand on his own neck, Tea waited to see what Leland would do. Would he tear him open? Would he struggle free? Either way, Tea was going to enjoy it. He felt it in the hollowness of his insides, he would enjoy it as much as someone without a heart could.

 

He let out a pleased purr as Leland took the bait and punctured Tea’s skin with his talons. Leland dragged his nails and tore Tea open, and Tea sighed and moaned as if it were a simple caress. Eyes closing in a strange bliss that came with being cut, they slid open again and locked with Leland’s.

 

The other was practically panting. “It’s black,” he muttered in awe, looking at the blood dripping down on his face and coating his fingers. He seemed almost mystified.

 

Tea grinned, head spinning in the little ecstasy he was able to feel from this. “Would you like to taste?”

 

Leland hesitated, and for a moment Tea thought he was going to have to . . . encourage him. The next thing he knew, Leland was sitting up against him. Hands gripping Tea’s sides roughly, a mouth latched onto his bleeding throat and Tea let out a fiendish laugh. His own talons dragging down Leland’s back and leaving bleeding marks behind, he listened to the growl the other freed into his open throat. For the first time he heard that it, too, was hollow.

 

Hollow like him.

 

Tea unleashed a triumphant cackle. There was something to be had in shared blood and heartlessness. Something grand.


	33. Red Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinx is serenaded as heartless Tea hunts him down.

“Dear rabbit, my legs are getting weak chasing you,” Jinx clapped both hands over his mouth as Tea sang. He still smelled the blood from the wound where Tea’s heart had been brutally ripped out. Who had done it and why, Jinx didn’t know. But he was cowering in the brush, praying Tea gave up looking for him. “And the snowfields wouldn’t seem so big if you knew,” his voice echoed and Jinx slipped lower beneath the brush, “that this blood on my teeth,” it was a haunting voice that was the bare bones of what Tea normally sounded like, “it is far beyond dry.” Tea’s voice was warm and safe and loving. This wasn’t Tea, and Jinx was sobbing internally at being pulled into such a . . . a  . . . monster’s arms. “And I’ve captured you once,” there was blood on Jinx’s leg, dribbling down to his hoof where Tea had already bitten him, “but it wasn’t quite right.” The voice was deceptively far, and went quiet briefly. “So I’m telling you that you’ll be safe with,” Jinx realized too late that he had been found again, Tea’s breath ghosting his neck as he sang, “me.”

 

Jinx screamed, scrambling away but it was too late. Tea’s hands locked on his legs and yanked him back. “Tea no!” he screeched. The thought danced at the edge of his mind that this was Tea’s true nature. This was what he would have been had the Puppeteers stolen his humanity. This was Tea, the predator.

 

The heartless.

 

Jinx’s sobs rang out as Tea’s face was buried in the crook of his neck. The cultist trembled, expecting fangs at any moment. Expecting the same fangs that had torn his leg and likely left a bloody trail for Tea to follow. “Oh rabbit,” a tongue darted out to lick Jinx’s throat, “my claws are down now so don’t be afraid.” Tears spilled from his eyes as Tea’s breath blew hot over his skin, and suddenly the Chandelier was peppering his throat with kisses. “I can keep you warm as long as you can just try,” his mouth opened and Jinx braced for the bite, “to be brave.” It never came. Tea simply suckled the flesh on his neck for a brief moment before pulling back. “Yes I know I’m a wolf,” another kiss, “and I’ve been known to bite—”

 

“Tea,” Jinx wept. He couldn’t escape. He was trapped under the other, and he wasn’t sure what the other wanted. Was the song a ruse? Was it meant to lull him into thinking he was going to be safe with Tea?

 

“But the rest of my pack,” Tea’s lips dragged up Jinx’s jaw, “I’ve left them behind.” Tea’s voice dropped to a whisper, “And my teeth may be sharp,” he nuzzled one of Jinx’s ears, “and I’ve been raised to kill,” Tea pressed his lips to his forehead, “but the thought of fresh meat,” Jinx sobbed harder, his whole body shaking, “it’s making me ill.” Tea enveloped him in a warm embrace as he pressed him into the ground, and Jinx didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. All he knew was that he had been caught and Tea wasn’t Tea, he was someone else, something else, something horrible.

 

“Please,” Jinx begged, “please let me go.”

 

But Tea didn’t. “So I’m telling you that you’ll be safe with me.” Wrapped in the warmth of the other, he cried out in fear every time bloody lips ran over his skin. “So rabbit please stop looking the other way.” Tea pulled him close, trapping him with the Chandelier in the woods where he didn’t think anyone would find them. “It’s cold out there,” his voice lowered even more to a deep baritone, “so why not stay here under my tail?” As Tea finished out the song, he longed for the embrace of the other. The one who truly did care.

 

Jinx feared he wouldn’t get to see the Tea he loved again in time.


	34. High as Kites: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darjeeling does strange things to Tea, and one of those strange things includes making him extra cozy with the rightfully named Dicksquad. Grimms edition.

He had escaped. He chuckled to himself. Leland hadn’t noticed he’d snuck out of the house high yet. Rolling in the grass, he fiddled with the bracelet Dismas had given him. His lupine ears twitched in the direction of every noise and his fur bristled in the night air. It was peaceful outside and it made the Darjeeling all the more intense.

 

Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he certainly looked and felt more animal than man. And it must have unnerved the individual approaching, because he froze long enough for Tea’s eyes to start to glow. When the other creature turned to run, Tea gave chase and pounced on him almost immediately. The scent of mint struck him then. “Grimms?”

 

“What the hell man?”

 

“Oh.” He slid off of him. “Oops.”

 

Grimms sat up off the ground, Tea crouching at his side. He could see the cultist squinting at him. “He look jacked.”

 

The moment of stupidity in not recognizing Grimms’s scent sooner dissipated and a giggle erupted from Tea. He was. He was so jacked. “I am.” A pot (or five) of Darjeeling tended to do that.

 

Grimms’s eyes continued to narrow and Tea saw a flush starting to crawl up the cultist’s neck. He waited for reprimand, but received none. Instead, Grimms gave him one of his winning smiles and hummed. Tea hummed in response, fur bristling slightly as his tail started to wag. Grimms let out a small chuckle. “Okay, I’ll admit. You’re cute high.”

 

Tea let out a happy bark before flopping on the ground beside Grimms, the other laughing harder at his display. Tea then rolled closer, leaves getting caught up in the fur along his back as he rested partially on Grimms’s lap. He drank in the scent of mint, growing giddy from the overwhelming smell. Tea buried his nose against Grimms’s navel, inhaling deeply. “Smell good,” he murmured against his abdomen as he wrapped his arms around Grimms’s waist.

 

Grimms let out a deep laugh that he could feel against his mouth. Feeling invited, he lifted the other’s shirt just enough to kiss his navel. Grimms drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Tea?” he asked quietly.

 

Tea tilted his head up against Grimms’s torso. The other looked . . . Tea grinned devilishly at his expression. His head spinning, it was a good thing they were already on the ground. Licking a tentative stripe up Grimms’s belly, he watched as the other’s pupils blew wide and he gasped at the contact. “May I?” Tea had discovered in this altered state he was comfortable with showing any level of affection. And Grimms was . . . kind. Brazen, but kind and flirtatious. Tea was not flirtatious. It would be nice to show, for once, that he actually was capable of showing this sort of intimacy.

 

The cultist gave him another of those smiles, which made Tea purr loudly. “You up for it, sugarplum?” Grimms asked, latching onto a nickname Tapi was so fond of.

 

It was Tea’s turn to grin. It was nearly savage, his grin. He was sure his face was, in fact, plum-like as he started pushing Grimms’s shirt up. His lips trailed behind his hands and the hem, brushing up the mint scented skin as Tea neared Grimms’s chest. Feeling the other breathe as he shoved the shirt further and further up was truly a treat. Once he pushed the shirt off entirely, he seized the opportunity to kiss Grimms. Grimms, who kissed his cheek and made him fluster.

 

He certainly enjoyed feeling the warmth from the other now that he was pulling his clothes off piece by piece, slowly and teasingly. His fur bristled as Grimms ran his fingers through it, encouraging him. Tea grinned as he pulled from Grimms’s lips and started trailing kisses back down the cultist’s body. The mint scent almost gave him the impression his lips were tingling just from kissing Grimms’s skin. Tasting the now nude cultist, his head dipped to Grimms’s groin. He stared up at the other giant and asked, “Wanna see what I learned recently?”

 

“Hell yeah,” the other gasped out.

 

Tea let out a sly grin as his tongue darted out past fangs and lapped slowly and gently at Grimms’s member. Grimms sucked in a breath and Tea watched as he closed his eyes, head rolling back. Before the other could catch his breath, Tea took the cultist fully into his mouth. Using his lips as a barrier between the sensitive skin and his fangs, he bobbed his head and started to slide his tongue under the giant’s cock. Grimms’s hips started bucking, and Tea hummed and chuckled around the member at the cultist’s eagerness. He continued to tongue and suck Grimms, listening to his needy breaths and moans.

 

He was completely unprepared for Grimms to grab him by his fur and hair and flip him over. The pull on his hair felt . . . erotic. His pants were being pulled from his hips. He . . . he wanted Grimms to pull his hair again, but now his own member was exposed and there was a mouth on him.

 

Tea spread his legs wider, letting Grimms grips his hips roughly as the other giant swallowed him down and slicked him up. “G-Grimms,” Tea whimpered, shutting his eyes against the sight of the other cultist returning the favor. His tongue . . . it moved so fast . . . Tea’s heart was hammering in his chest, he was fighting for air. It felt so intense, the high washing out his brain the way Grimms’s tongue and mouth laved against his cock.

 

He was utterly taken aback when Grimms’s head left his member and his mouth started dragging up Tea’s body. Grimms straddled Tea’s hips, and Tea’s breath and heart stopped altogether when the cultist sat down on him. Now fully inside Grimms, Tea went still. Fur bristling on his back and a sudden howl lodged in his throat as the other giant shuddered around him.

 

Grimms let out a noticeable hiss. Before he could ask if he was alright, the cultist murmured, “You gonna move, sugarplum?”

 

Tea’s skin was buzzing. Yes. Yes he was going to. Sitting up, he wraps his arms around Grimms’s waist and begins shifting his hips upward. Grimms throws his head back again and lets out a groan. Fingers tangling in Tea’s hair and fur again, brushing over his ears and balling into fists . . . Tea snarled and shoved his lips against Grimms’s throat as he starts to thrust harder. The buzzing turned to pins and needles and Grimms clenched his fists in Tea’s fur and oh dear God the pull on his fur. He’d never once liked having his hair pulled, but this was damn exquisite. He thrust harder, claws scraping down Grimms’s back. He left welts and Grimms bucked harder and harder as Tea’s talons scratched at him. Tea’s snarls grew louder, eyes growing hot and glowing as he sucked on Grimms’s neck.

 

He dragged his nails over Grimms’s thighs before gripping them, holding his hips still as Tea drove up into him. Fists clenching harder in Tea’s fur, Tea pulled away and watched Grimms’s face with a glowing gaze. Throat darkened by Tea’s mouth, the taste of mint lingered on his tongue as he fucked the cultist riding him. Kissing Grimms’s gaping mouth once, he nipped at the other’s lip and savored the deliciousness that was the other giant coming apart in his arms.

 

Grimms went limp and Tea pushed him to the ground, pushing back into him in search of his own release. When he found it, he braced his arms on either side of Grimms’s head to keep his upper body from collapsing. He lowered himself just enough to give the cultist a gentler kiss, one that didn’t have teeth.

 

Grimms smoothed out the fur on Tea’s back as Tea settled on the ground next to him. Rolling onto his stomach, Tea purred as Grimms curled against him and used his fur covered shoulderblade as his pillow. Grinning as the cultist stayed close, he let his tail lay across Grimms’s legs. Skin buzzing. Heart thumping. Purr thrumming.

 

The night was cool.

 

But Tea felt warm lying in woods beside Grimms.


	35. Hey Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's sometimes hard to remember that though Tea loves so many and is loved by so many, Aiden is still very special to him.

Aiden watched Tea interact with these creatures, his words coming as easy as breath. He laughed. He . . . was happy. Aiden should be happy too.

 

But the way Nicoli hovered so close. The way Grimms flirted. The way Jinx held Tea’s arm. It was so . . . painfully clear Tea was comfortable with them in more than one way. It was so painfully obvious they were all just as close (if not closer) to Tea as he was. His jaw hurt from gritting his teeth so hard. All he wanted to do was climb onto Tea’s back and knock away all of the people approaching him with such comfort and friendliness. Friendliness the other had known so little of.

 

And Tea was happy. He was smiling. He . . . he couldn’t take that from him.

 

But he couldn’t stop feeling the way he did either. He couldn’t stop the resentment he felt towards anyone who brushed shoulders or touched hands or even spoke lovingly to Tea. What right did they have? They didn’t know Tea like he did, they hadn’t seen what Tea had, they hadn’t even known him as long.

 

That’s what drove his heart downward. No. They hadn’t. They hadn’t seen or known. They . . . they had taken no part in the hurt Tea had endured.

 

Aiden had.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, pulling out of the group and the conversation. Tea started to follow, started to reach out to him, but he reassured the other, “Just getting some water.” Tea didn’t believe him. He could see that plainly as the giant started to gently dislodge himself from the affections of the others. No, he didn’t want that. He did, but he didn’t. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Tea’s in almost a show of possession. The gesture, however, was meant to push him back down and assure him he was capable of leaving the conversation and returning to it on his own. “Back soon,” he said against Tea’s lips as he pulled away.

 

As he left them for the kitchen, he listened to the way the other cultists (beasts) cooed to Tea like adolescents spotting PDA for the first time. He could practically feel the purple fluster crawling up Tea’s neck and he felt even worse about his behavior. His feelings felt unjustified. At the same time, it was just so . . . unfair.

 

He didn’t even necessarily know what was upsetting him anymore. Tea loved him. He . . . he loved him. Why would he want Aiden to understand his relationship with the Candle Cult so much if he didn’t love him? Why would he go to all the lengths he has to take care of Aiden otherwise? Just . . . Tea loved him. Why couldn’t Aiden just be happy that he wasn’t the only one who loved Tea back? Who Tea loved?

 

Aiden had to consciously loosen his grip on the glass he’d found as he got and gulped down water. It hit his stomach like a ton of bricks, but it was something to focus on other than his budding jealousy of the intimacy the others showed Tea. He wasn’t aware the owner of the household they were in had crept up behind him, leaning on the counter that separated them. “I’ve never seen Rowan this pleased. You must be something very special.”

 

Of all the things to get possessive over, the use of Tea’s true name had to be the strangest. He heard the singing of his glass in his fist and immediately set it down before he crushed it. Turning to the forest guardian Leland, Aiden wasn’t sure how he managed to seem unfazed but he did. Either that, or Leland was covering up that he knew how uncomfortable Aiden was at the moment. “He doesn’t like it when people use that name,” he corrected almost bitterly. He had to fight not to think of why Tea was uncomfortable with his own name. If he did, he would just feel worse than he did now.

 

“Unless he trusts the user.” Oh, that felt like a subtle blow to Aiden’s ego. He knew that couldn’t be what Leland intended, but it registered in him that the beast was gloating Tea’s faith in him. He ground his teeth. Leland. He remembered Leland. He remembered exactly who Leland was to Tea, more importantly. Aiden felt himself growing ill with envy, closing his eyes and turning away. How weird would it be if he just decided to splash his face with cold water in someone’s kitchen? He needed to cool off. He couldn’t go back to Tea and the others angrier than when he had left. “I can understand your discomfort.” The statement froze him in place and he almost snapped. How? How could he possibly understand what was going through his head? Red eyes narrowing, it took everything he had not to whirl on the larger (much larger) forest guardian. “It can’t be easy living among the things you were forced to cage.”

 

“Yeah, well—,” he stopped. His eyes widened slightly as he took in what the other had said. Forced. He . . . he had assumed . . . perhaps known . . . Aiden’s brow furrowed and he turned to face Leland. The other rested so casually on the counter, lowered to Aiden’s eye level and watching him with an almost clear fascination. Aiden tilted his head, wanting the address the statement somehow. But all his rage had drained suddenly.

 

And Leland declared, “I think you’re in the right place though. I think you’ll find yourself content here.”

 

Aiden cast his eyes down at the suggestion. “How are you so sure?”

 

“Because you’re with someone who adores you.”

 

That should have made him feel incredible. Instead . . ., “He shouldn’t.”

 

He glanced up to see Leland pursing his lips. He looked away again as a warm smile crossed those same lips. “Wanna know something interesting about trees?” No, Aiden didn’t really care that much about trees. But he supposed he was going to hear anyway. “If you uproot them and turn them on their heads, their branches will turning to roots and their roots will become branches.” Aiden’s eyes narrowed on the forest guardian. Was . . . was he trying to prove a point? What point? At least Aiden was swift enough to catch on that that was the forest guardian’s intention, though he wasn’t sure of anything else at the moment. “Everything the two of you have known has been reversed. You might have been a branch before,” yeah, one that had broken, “but you stand to become a root now.”

 

Aiden thought about it, then added sarcastically, “Or I could just suffocate.” That seemed just as feasible. Tea was already regrown here in the Candle Cult, why should he—?

 

“I invite you to imagine Tea as one of your new roots.” Aiden froze yet again. “What would it do to you if he suffocated?” The heart in his chest clenched. His hand flexed as he resisted the urge to reach up and grab his chest. “If that affects you the way I hope it does,” he could see in Leland’s smile that it had done just what he’d thought and he wanted to be angry again, “then I think you know how devastated Rowan would be not to have you.”

 

It was still unfathomable to him, especially since it was Leland pointing this out. Tea had all of them. So what if one branch failed to convert to root? “You may not believe me now,” Leland said, standing straight once more. “But you can imagine his face if anyone in that room called him Rowan right now.” Aiden bristled in nervousness at the expression, at the way Tea’s heart would spike with a solemnity he tried so desperately to avoid. “He even flinches when I say it sometimes. I only learned his name due to some very . . . fortunate circumstances.” The way he said that was clearly suggestive and Aiden was sensing a challenge in the forest guardian’s voice. “How does he react when you say his name?”

 

It was indeed a challenge. One Aiden shouldn’t succumb to. But damned if he wasn’t making his way back to the other room where the others were still chattering away. Before he thought better of it, he asked over the other voices, “Hey Rowan?”

He actually felt Tea’s heart jump as the giant turned toward him. Features softening, Tea looked back at him with such . . . such . . . devotion. “Yeah?” he asked so pleasantly. He hadn’t even flinched.

 

And Aiden was stuck looking dumbly at him with no idea what reason to give for having called out for him. Sputtering, he fumbled for an excuse. A question. A suggestion. Anything. “D-do you maybe,” spit something out already, “want a drink?” Nailed it.

 

Tea shook his head, holding out a clawed hand and inviting Aiden back to the couch by his side. The others had cleared enough of a space for him and . . . he settled against the giant’s side with a hum.

 

While Tea held him close Aiden couldn’t ignore the pleasant swelling in his chest. He almost missed Leland winking at him from across the room as a result.


	36. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea makes some terrible friends, one of whom being a Greek dream demon who lives in his head. When a Greek god realizes Tea has this creature inside of him, he takes the initiative required in dealing with a killer of gods.
> 
> In which Eros, God of Love, tortured Tea, host of the Phobia Gemmy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My guilty pleasure ship, they hate each other so much.

"You're perhaps the best subject for this sort of scenario," the god mused above him. Tea's lip was bleeding from biting it so much as Eros straddled his hips, dragging fingers over his exposed chest. "You keep quiet." Intense, awful urges surged through him at the simple touch of a digit. Tea's back arched as he demonstrated Eros's point by withholding screaming. "You speak when I ask." The finger pulled away, and Tea was left gasping for breath. He whimpered only slightly as feathers brushed over his legs. "You don't really need to be gagged. It's refreshing, really."

"Just get it over with-th," Tea murmured weakly. His eyes were burning from the salted wounds Eros had inflicted. There were cuts running deep along his torso the god had also salted. All this to allegedly keep him from sprouting horns and a tail. On top of that, Eros wouldn't let him rest. If he rested, said features might pop up and then hell would break loose in the heavens once again. "Just h-hurt me already." He knew what men like Eros were capable of, knew what they wanted and how they usually got it. He'd been waiting to feel more than the god's hands for a couple days now.

"Am I not hurting you enough?" A full palm landed on Tea's chest and the half skinwalker arched his back in surprise at the increase of pleasure and screamed. He felt violated, and that took a lot considering what he'd endured. "Shush now, you were doing so well staying quiet before." Tea obeyed, tears painfully gathering in his salted eyes. "That's a good boy. You're a common pet now, aren't you."

Tea shivered when the hand was removed, squirming under the god fretfully. "P-please," he begged, "I won't interfere with y-your things-s again, just s-send me back." Back to the cult. Back to Aiden. Back to where he was freest where no one touched him like this, no one hurt him like this.

"Oh no." Tea trembled at the tone. "I don't think so."

His lip quivered. "W-what?"

"You're a threat to my own, you black blooded abomination. Do you really think I'm going to let you go before I figure out where you got that thing from?"

"Th-thing?" Tea's shaking intensified. Home. He wanted to go home. Now.

He gasped as a finger brushed his jaw. "Yes, the beast you call a dream demon. Where did you get it?" Tea's mind hung on the words Eros had said. He wasn't . . . he wasn't letting him go. He wanted to know about Gemmy. He wanted . . . he wanted . . . Tea wasn't going home.

The cultist started kicking, growling in fear and frustration. He arched his back and bucked his hips, twisting despite the pain of his wounds. All the while Eros shushed him. "Get off of me!" he screamed.

A hand clapped over Tea's mouth and the half skinwalker screamed into it. Face burning at the touch as his insides twisted, Eros murmured, "Be a good little pet now." Memories circled Tea's mind, memories of words so much like those spilling from the mouth of another not so long ago. Obey, his head said. Obey and get through. He wanted to cry. What was the point if he wasn't going home? Lee, Tapi, Ash, Aiden . . . would they even notice he was gone? Eros shushed him once more, fingers massaging his face as despair set in. "Just a few answers to some simple questions. How difficult is that boy?" Tea's mind locked on the word, reminding him yet again of another place, another time. Through the semi blinding pleasure, something clicked in his head.

And he went as still as he could while under the influence of Eros's touch.

Am I not hurting you enough, he'd asked.

This . . . this was it. This was his torture. And . . . if this wasn't it . . . if there was more . . . Tea had already endured it. He'd already survived it before. There was nothing Eros could do to him he hadn't dealt with, and even then he was constrained by his rule to keep Tea awake.

Tea's heart hammered. He wasn't going home. He wasn't dying. This was all Eros could do to him. He had nothing to lose.

Mistaking his stillness for compliance, Eros asked if Tea was ready for his first question. The curse he let out when Tea answered him with a harsh bite to the hand and a scream was enough to make the pain of Eros's hands worth it.

He'd suddenly acquired a taste for god's blood and he wasn't afraid.  



	37. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan saw a great deal of Liam. Even his more vulnerable moments.

The creaking of his door forced his eyes open. As the light fell across his bed, he closed them again. Biting down on the guard, he involuntarily curled in on himself tighter. He listened to the footsteps and judged their pace.

Long strides.

Long, dragging strides.

It was going to be one of those nights again.

Liam settled on the edge of Rowan's bed and Rowan fought to maintain his breathing. He had to seem asleep. If he didn't, the illusion would be broken. It was a mere illusion after all. He'd learned a long time ago that the heartless, while without hearts, were not without memories.

And Liam somehow always wound up here when those memories swept him away. Here, sitting on the edge of Rowan's bed. Here, with his hands clasped in front of his lips. Here, with shaking breaths and limbs. Like he was lost.

These were the only moments Rowan was not shivering in fear of what Liam might do. Of course, if his trance was broken (which could be done with any one whispered word) the coldness with which he usually addressed Rowan with would return full force. But left alone like this . . . Rowan could almost let himself think somewhere deep within his master was still . . . still . . . .

Human.

A genuinely gentle set of long fingers carded through Rowan's hair, and with a practiced mind Rowan was able to keep himself from pulling away. He was able to stay still, allow his master to perform this rare act, to engage in this infrequent phenomenon. The fingers were soothing, not threatening as they so very often were to him. They were almost soft. Almost kind.

Apologetic.

Rowan heard a sniffle and froze, afraid it had come from him. It had not. It had . . . it had come from Liam. As did the barely audible, "I'm so sorry."

Rowan's's heart clenched in his chest and he was barely able to maintain the guise of still being asleep. He didn't have to maintain it for much longer, as Liam was already pulling away. Getting up, dragging himself out of the room, Liam left Rowan behind. As soon as the door clicked closed, Rowan was free to shudder and unravel from the encounter. He let out a much louder sniffle to match Liam's muffled one. Oh how he wished he could accept the apology and believe it would change anything. 

But it wouldn't.

It never would.

Some ghosts still lived and breathed, and he was subject to the whims of their shells for as long as they saw fit.


	38. Three and One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Rowan reached out to Aiden and one time Aiden found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since L&L are in here and Tea's dream self is usually ten, it's fair to warn you there are underage implications in the dream sequences.
> 
> Proceed cautiously.

He ran. He ran fast, and he ran far. He did exactly as his dad had told him. He didn’t stop, not even when the screeching grew so loud it surrounded and deafened him. His bare feet bruised on the roots he rocketed over, his legs were cut from thorns and his lungs felt like they were going to collapse. He ran and ran and ran and ran, no stopping, no screaming, no sound but the unholy beast he’d never seen.

Rowan caught sight of a person in the distance. A young man, one he recognized. Now with a goal, a point to reach, he felt he could run faster. He was actually moving faster. He shot towards the person, who drew closer and closer still. The young man, Aiden, it was Aiden, faced away from him. “Aiden!” Rowan screamed but the other didn’t seem to hear him. In fact, he was turning further away from him. “Aiden please!” He was walking away, shoulders slumped, head bowed as he followed black wings, followed them away from Rowan. “Wait!”

His toes hit a raised root hard and he fell on his front. Face buried in the dirt, he tried to push himself up off the ground and continue only to unsuccessfully drag himself forward. Aiden was getting further and further and Rowan was left screaming his name, begging him to come back, not to leave him.

He woke up as the shadow of the beast chasing him had fallen across him.

Tears were in his eyes as he lay frozen in the small bed. Drenched in sweat, he ignored all of the other still sleeping Toys. In all honesty, there was only one that mattered. Awake enough to throw the sheets off of himself and get up without the hindrance of weariness, he left behind his cot to find one occupied by the person whose name he had been shouting (hopefully just in his dreams).

He tried not to disturb the other too much, lifting the covers and settling on the mattress in front of him easily. It was a few moments before Aiden woke up just enough to mutter, “S’wrong kid?” Sliding and folding his arms around Rowan, the partially awake Toy grumbled, “Nightmare?” Rowan nodded against the older’s chest and felt the tightness in his chest start to loosen. “S’just a dream, kid.” His chest continued to feel alleviated as Aiden rubbed his back and yawned. “Just a dream.”

Rowan nodded again against his chest, burrowing deeper into the bed and closer to the other. Fists balling in Aiden’s shirt, he desperately clung to the words. Just a dream. Aiden wouldn’t leave him.

He had promised.

\--

It hadn’t quite clicked with him yet, why he was so small in his dreams. He certainly had not been this small when his claws, teeth, and eyes had changed. Yet he was in the body of his ten-year-old self, claws fully formed and teeth aching. His eyes were hot, and his legs refused to work.

The brand was getting closer. It was getting closer, and the floor was getting slicker. He pushed, he kicked, he screamed, he did everything in his power to back away, to get away.

Aiden was standing in the doorway and Rowan’s first instinct was to reach for him. Only, when he did, Aiden didn’t just turn from him.

He slammed the door shut.

He left him to their mercy, the ones with the brands.

The brand was just stinging his neck when he woke up and found the area of abuse no longer on fire from the actual branding. He still slept in his gloves, but his claws had long since grown back from the clipping. His jaw still ached and he was still made to wear a guard, but this was not the night of the betrayal.

That had been some ten years ago.

Ten years.

Ten years, thousands of scars, several punishments, broken bones, force feedings, and countless verbal degradations.

All of this . . . and still his subconscious reached for him.

He could hear Gemmy laughing at how pitiful he was and he curled up on his side. He was older now. He was older, bigger, stronger. But all of that was moot, as his age, size, and strength were all controlled by someone not himself. Someone much crueler.

Someone who had pressed the brand to his neck.

He didn’t sob as hard as he used to, but the tears still came. Breath still failed him, and body still quivered as he recalled all the times he had wanted the other there. Wanted him there to save him. To help him. To keep his promise.

Rowan squeezed his eyes shut and Gemmy laughed harder. He should know better by now. He should know.

Lance had said it best: no one was going to save a monster.

\--

His own puppet strings were threatening to constrict so much that soon he’d be cut open. They felt like wire, digging into his arms and holding him high among the trees. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t make them stop. On the ground he saw green and red eyes staring up at him and laughing at the tangle he had put himself in, the red strings pulling and tightening the more he struggled. He felt them cut and the blood started to run over and stain the puppet strings.

Ten years old and once again with the features of his older self. He even had the black blood and scars now.

The lump in his throat finally let the cry of agony he had wanted to release through. So small, his voice was so small. He squeezed his eyes and when they were opened . . . .

Lance and Liam, leather and feathered wings on their backs, were perched on the branches above him. They opened their mouths to laugh, and familiar screeches came out as their taloned hands reached for him. “Here,” they spoke in unison, “let us help you.”

“No!” Rowan screamed. He writhed in the strings, shaking his head violently and cutting himself more, but still their claws neared. Still their claws began cutting, clasping the strings, holding them tight so that when he was finally free of the trees he was in their grasp again.

Strung up like a gift.

Lance held the strings taut and Liam’s large, clawed hands held his head still. “Go on,” he mocked. “Cry for him.” Lance pulled the strings tighter and the only thing holding him still was Liam’s—his master’s—hands. Lance pressed flush against his back and he saw the blood dripping down each tree limb. He saw the black blood out of the corner of his eye as Liam’s mouth neared his face. “Call his name, Rowan. I know you want to.” Lance snickered in his ear and Rowan sobbed. He sobbed from the pain, from their closeness, from the terror that froze everything inside of him, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud the world shattered, but he knew no one would come for him. Especially not . . . .

“Aiden,” he muttered.

“I didn’t hear that, did you?” Liam asked Lance.

“Louder, pet,” Lance hissed, yanking the strings painfully tighter.

“Aiden!” Rowan screamed, praying for a mercy they’d never shown him.

“Much better boy,” Liam praised, thumbs caressing Rowan’s cheeks. “But as you see, he isn’t coming.”

“Are you surprised?” Lance asked.

“Don’t you know by now,” Liam pressed a cold kiss over one of Rowan’s eyes, “he’s never coming for you?”

“Never,” Lance confirmed as his mouth neared the back of Rowan’s neck.

“Rowan!” a voice screamed and . . . against all odds . . . the world shattered.

He was in his bedroom, on his mattress. His own bed in the Kynttilӓ Kartano, with Aiden . . . it was Aiden’s hands cradling his face. Not his master’s. Not Liam’s. Aiden sat over him, evidence of him having done everything in his power to get Tea to wake up.

But in Tea’s head, it was too late. They’d gotten to him, Aiden had arrived too late. He let the tears that had been streaking his face continue to fall, allowing the other to pull him upright enough to get him to settle against his chest. Aiden’s words of love and encouragement were quiet compared to the screeching still blaring in his ears.

And though Tea clung to Aiden fiercely, desperate never to let the smaller go, desperate to keep him close and hold him to a promise long since broken . . . .

He was still stuck listening to the rules and jeers Liam and Lance had put in place for him.

They had stayed with him far longer than the ones Tea wished had stayed by his side.

\--

Aiden hated bugs, demons, almost everything Tea had come to be associated with most of the time. However, it was hard to turn them down when they said he needed to intervene.

He had forgotten how he had come to be in Tea’s mind, really. He just found himself in the heavily forested area, walking over roots and pushing past branches in search of the one he had come to see. The one he was told needed him.

He found Rowan in a clearing, clinging to something lavender as he sat on the ground hunched over. He rocked back and forth, clinging to the fabric and shivering. Seeing Rowan this small again . . . .

Aiden had been so close to running to him, stepping forward with a purpose only to halt when Rowan spun about to face him. Landing heavily on his seat, Rowan had to throw a hand back to keep from falling over completely. Still clinging to the fabric—it was a sash of some sort—with white knuckles, Aiden froze at the look of horror on Rowan’s face.

Horror took over Aiden as he saw the body of the other.

Bleeding lines circled his arms and torso, like he had been cut by wire wrapped around his small body. He had the scars of his older self (eyes, claws, and probably teeth too), and he looked like . . . he looked . . . .

Aiden and Rowan shared in a crippling sadness that made Aiden’s legs buckle. He hit his knees and he felt his mind start to haze in protest of the intensity. All the while he stared at the boy looking back at him fearfully. He couldn’t tell . . . was he the one crying?

Or Rowan?

When Aiden didn’t get up or move, Rowan started shuddering and asked shakily, “Are . . . are you going t-to,” the boy bit his lip and yes, he was in fact crying (but Aiden was too), “to leave? Again?” Aiden wanted to yell, wanted to scream no, he wasn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even open his mouth, but he shook his head violently. No, he wasn’t going to. He would never leave the other again.

The hesitation in the other told him how often he had been shoved away. The tears in his eyes told him how much he had wanted this moment to happen. The flurry of movement that was Rowan surging upward and running into Aiden’s arms, the swiftness, the ferocity with which the boy clung to him . . . it told him how many times Aiden should have been there when he wasn’t.

So many times . . . .

Aiden’s only hesitation at holding Rowan tight faded before his eyes. The cuts and claws, the teeth and even the color of his eyes, they all shifted. Soon he was holding the boy he remembered, the one with hazel eyes and a nervous smile. The one who’d pushed his buttons, leading Aiden to shoving him in closets and garbage bins. The one who crawled into bed with him after devastating nightmares.

The one he had promised to keep safe for as long as he lived.

Aiden’s grip tightened on Rowan, but there was no protest from the boy. Fists clenched in the younger’s clothes, sash still held tight in Rowan’s fist as it draped over Aiden’s shoulder and was trapped between them, there was a number of things he wanted to tell Rowan. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was so stupid, I should have known better. You’re not a monster kid, you’re Rowan. You have always been Rowan, you always will be Rowan. You are my Rowan.

But the only words that spilled from his lips were, “I won’t let you go again.”

“Promise?” Rowan uttered against Aiden’s shoulder.

He nodded, throat closing just after the words, “Promise.” He let a hand reach up and tangle in the boy’s hair, clinging to one of the extreme few reasons he had to live. “Promise,” he mouthed, but no sound came out this time.

This time he would keep it, he promised to himself. This time, he would keep his promise to Rowan.


	39. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea and Lola have unfortunate similarities: being branded, losing loved ones, going into heat at inconvenient times.
> 
> The latter becomes a very interesting issue for the two friends.

She hadn’t seen Tea in a while, so she thought perhaps she should go check on him. After all, it wasn’t healthy for her to stay in her room for weeks on end. The same could be said for him.

Sometimes she thought the half skinwalker was more prone to seclusion than she was.

Wandering through the halls, she searched for Tea’s and Aiden’s room. The Grand Stairwell had been fairly kind to her (this time), and she was on her way to checking up on her friend. She was just outside his room when . . . .

The ground was moving.

Was the manor reshaping itself again, or was it just her?

Lola continued forward, but her knees buckled almost immediately and she dropped like a sack of potatoes. As warmth pooled in her cheeks and lower abdomen, an embarrassment and sense of horror rose within her. Oh no. No, goddammit, not now, she thought futilely.

She fought her way to her feet, leaning heavily into the wall. Oh fuck, the sensations were moving too fast for her this time. She couldn’t keep up. She let out a humiliating moan as she pressed herself against the wall, hoping she’d just fall through it into privacy. Pants escaping her parted lips, she balled her fist around a section of her sweater and squeezed her thighs together tight. Shielding her eyes with her forearm, she was slowly losing her ability to think or reason. Ever so swiftly, she was longing for something to ease the ache and soothe the heat.

In the middle of the goddamn hallway, Lola was going into heat.

She was going to hate herself later.

\--

Aiden needed a break. Tea told him this halfway through the first week, but the hardhead didn’t listen. By the time the first week had drawn to a close, Tea was begging him to take care of himself first.

It had been almost twelve hours since Aiden had decided to listen to him.

Tea was a fucking mess.

Ever since learning what a fucking pleasure going into heat with a loving partner was like, Tea was drunk on the affections. Drunk on the touches and caresses. Now that he was alone again, he was clenching his fists in the sheets and burying his face in Aiden’s pillow. His nonstop purring was louder in his ears now that Aiden wasn’t there for him to listen to, and he growled as he rutted against the mattress. With Aiden’s scent, it was easy to picture him there. Having memorized Aiden’s touch, it was even easier to picture the other caressing him, kissing him, moving in him.

He wanted him again so bad he was driving himself mad.

Tea was in no state to leave and find someone else to help alleviate this crippling need. He’d grab the first person who walked past him. Mouth watering and breaths harsh, he looked up slightly. That didn’t seem too crazy an idea. Pulling his nose away from the pillow, he was struck with a scent that was . . . .

Most definitely not Aiden.

Tea felt his eyes grow hot and his nostrils flare and his mouth gaped, drawing in as much of the scent he could. Senses heightened, he let his nearly uncontrollable energy seep out in search of the source.

It was close.

She was close.

Tea’s legs should be jelly, and he should be purple with shame. However, he was not. Loose though he was, and purpled from the exertion, he had one thought circulating his mind as he disregarded his vulnerability and nudity and pursued the scent.

The thought was a cross between prey and . . . a different kind of prey.

There was a blotch in his memory between escaping his room and slamming into a wall that was already occupied by an individual equally needy as himself. He looked down at the person and framed their body with his arms before whispering, “You smell good.”

Through the haze he recognized Lola, but she didn’t seem to recognize him as she let out a breathy, “Huh?” He shuddered as her hands reached out to brush over his scarred chest, smoothing over his heated, vibrating skin and unleashing a growl from his throat. “Ido?”

It took one sultry look for all other thoughts to scatter. Another gap in his memory manifested, but the feeling of scooping her up and carrying her with her legs wrapped tight around his waist felt right. She was so hot against his skin, and that was saying something.

He was practically burning alive.

The door slammed behind him and he was pressing her into the mattress now. With a growl and a snap of his jaws, he was tearing her sweater apart and revealing her beautifully marked body. She writhed beneath him and he hadn’t even tasted or touched her yet. Hips grinding against her exposed core, he attacked her lips with his own. Her mouth alone was searing, he couldn’t fathom the heat pooling between her thighs. He took said thighs in his hands and pulled them up, guiding her legs back around his waist as he lined up with her wet, scalding need. Pushing into her with a snarl, he quivered.

Her moans and cries filled the room and the hairs on his body were standing on end. Holding her hips in place, he drove into her without mercy. She scorched him with her voice, her skin, her burning heat. He buried his mouth against her neck and nipped the flesh, teeth grazing her jaw as he moved back up to her lips and she sank her claws into his shoulders. In a flurry of movement, he had her palms pinned above her head. He eyed her gaping expression, snarls falling from his lips at the way her back arched and she rocked from his slamming into her. He felt his knot forming as he became immersed in the feeling of touching her, holding her, kissing her, being inside her. He howled when he came, letting his palms slide from her wrists, down her arms, to encircle her waist and hold her to him. 

When her arms returned to circling his neck and she continued rutting onto him, driving his knot deeper into her, he pulled her up onto his lap and had her ride him. Sinking his fingers into her hair and nuzzling her ears, he let his body be as much a balm to hers as hers was to his.

\--

When Lola woke up, she hummed at the sweet scent of tea that filled her nostrils. There was a fog in her mind as she stretched slowly, stopping and moaning at a pleasant soreness she recognized. Humming again, she felt her cheeks flush at the knowledge she had gone into heat once again without warning. She remembered little, only a few flashes and blurs coming to mind as the scent intensified. She must be with Gabriel. Only his room would be filled with the scent of tea.

She yawned. She felt amazingly refreshed (had probably slept for days after the end), and yet there was what seemed to be an additional amount of ache to be had. Gabriel must have been rougher than usual. Sighing, Lola rolled onto her side and wrapped around the large body that had been curled around her. She let her hand slide up to his head, expecting to feel long, coarse hair.

It slowly registered that she was running her fingers through short, soft strands.

And that Gabriel wasn’t supposed to put off this much body heat.

. . . This person was much bigger than she was used to.

Eyes sliding open, she turned to slowly gaze at the tea scented . . . Tea. Her eyes shot wide. Oh God. Tea.

The image of her leaning over him and dragging her nails down his chest as he held her hips and thrust up into her returned full force and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

It was too late, though. He was already stirring awake. And when gold eyes slowly opened to meet hers.

They let out twin noises of utter mortification. Lola scrambled off the bed, landing hard on the floor before crawling underneath and finding herself on another mattress (mattress under the bed?). Meanwhile, Tea burrowed under the blankets that had been kicked to the foot of his carved up, cut open, very messy bed. As they settled in their hiding spots, Lola’s ears flat against her head and Tea’s twitching as he spoke, they both cried simultaneously, “I’m sorry!”

She began a very long tirade, “Oh my God Tea.”

She was interrupted by, “Lola, I’m so sorry—”

“If I had known, I swear—”

“—but what were you doing in the hallway?”

“—I wouldn’t have come looking for you.”

“Looking for me, what about you?”

“I didn’t even know this was a thing that happened—”

“You could have been hurt.

“—at least not with you.”

“I could have—”

“Please don’t be upset.”

“—seriously hurt you. Please—”

“Tea?”

“—forgive me.”

“Tea?” His voice had grown so muffled, and there was a continued hum of distress she could hear through the bed. Swallowing her own pride and shame, she slid out from the other side of the bed and slowly peaked up onto the bed where she had been lying so comfortably moments before. Her heart sank as she saw Tea’s face buried under pillows, lower body covered partially as he shook. He looked like . . . he was crying. Oh God, please don’t be crying. That would just increase the guilt she already felt. “Tea, shhh,” she crooned straightening up and reaching for him. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” She ran her hand over his scarred back, relieved that he didn’t pull away. Soothing and shushing him, she slid further up onto the bed. Grabbing a torn sheet, she wrapped it around her the best that she could before settling beside Tea and continuing to rub his back in circles. “Tea, I’m not mad. It’s alright. I promise.”

It felt like it took ages before his head emerged from the pillows. He was still shivering, but at least he didn’t really look like he’d been crying. Upset, yes. Discomfited, absolutely. Crying, no. Good. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ever see Tea cry again. 

But it was almost comical, he reaction to his quiet musing, “Aiden might kill me.”

Though her stomach was still turning from having lost control with someone so clearly uncomfortable, she snorted. “Sucks to be him.” Before she could reset her filter, she murmured, “He’d miss out on a good lay.” Tea turned purple and stared wide-eyed at her. Lola covered her mouth. “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

She apologized, and yet Tea relaxed. “Well,” he started softly, “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Lola felt herself turning red. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” When he nodded, she felt her stomach turn some more. Lying down across his back, she hugged him and buried her face in his back. She was glad to hear a hum from him in response to the affection. “Ten ten would try again,” she said, glancing up to see a small smile on his face. “Just . . . maybe in a different lifetime and under different circumstances.”

It was his turn to snort. “Understandable.”

They rested a while long, then she declared she needed to eat something. He conceded he probably needed to go shower and find Aiden, who would likely be in a huff and glaring at nothing and no one in particular. Realizing she no longer had a sweater, Tea gave her one of his large black shirts. It covered her like a loose dress, just long enough that she didn’t feel uncomfortable walking back to her room in it. Tea walked her to the Grand Stairwell before splitting off to head to the shower. She kissed him on the cheek and promised to return his shirt to him. After admiring the tint to his cheeks from which he’d won the nickname sugarplum, she decided that maybe he wouldn’t be getting his shirt back anytime soon. It was comfortable, and smelled like him.

It was nice.


	40. Red Chai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartless Tea has a favorite treat, and that treat is Aiden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is non-con.
> 
> I repeat.
> 
> This is non-con.
> 
> HT is bad news please proceed with caution.

“Where are you going?” Aiden pulled out of the taller’s hold with ease only to be yanked back to him. “Hm? Got somewhere to be?”

 

Aiden wrenched his already bruising forearms out of Tea’s hands, backing away in hopes that maybe he could dodge the other out of the room. He was wrong. The heartless version of his lover rushed forward and grabbed at him again. “Get off!” he cried out in panic, still backing up and still pulling his arms free every chance he got.

 

His freedom was always short-lived. He’d get loose only to be ensnared again. “You don’t need to go anywhere, kid.” Aiden’s heart raced and his breathing was labored. He gave one last jerk of his wrists, getting one loose so that he could punch the hell out of the other. Tea’s head snapped back before it rolled on his shoulders. Golden eyes came to rest back on Aiden as a sinister grin spread across that usually sweet face. “I love it when you play rough with me,” the half skinwalker growled.

 

The next thing he knew, he was shoved backwards. He expected to hit the floor, but instead landed on the bed. A strain of terror spiked adrenaline seeped outward from his chest and Aiden was suddenly scrambling. He hadn’t been paying attention. He hadn’t been fighting properly. Fuck fuck fuck. “Tea stop!”

 

In a flurry of movement, Aiden was kicking and clawing his way up the bed. Away, get away, he had to get away, he started to roll off and away from the other. He almost succeeded. He was so close, he was almost on his feet again. He could have booked it for the door while Tea was still climbing across the mattress to snag him, but large hands gripped his calves and rolled him onto his back before Tea’s pelvis was pressed between Aiden’s legs. Only then did Aiden freeze completely, eyes fixed on the . . . monster . . . caging him with his arms.

 

Tea hummed, that fanged mouth lowering to Aiden’s neck. The smaller had the fitting image of those teeth tearing his throat out, but not even that could jolt him into action again. He was paralyzed as lips dragged over the thin skin of his neck, burning as they went. Blood dripped onto his middle from the hole in Tea’s chest, and he became hyperaware of how the other rocked against his core, how his thighs felt stiff against Tea’s hips, how he could feel the half skinwalker’s breath and hum and smile against him even without looking. He felt so rigid, so still, when moments before he had been fleeing and fighting. Now he was trapped, hands above his head in a mockery of surrender.

 

“Don’t be like that,” the monster uttered against his neck as Aiden became vaguely aware of just how tangled they were. “Won’t you hug me like you did before?” That . . . was how this had started. Aiden had hugged him. Hugged him without realizing it wasn’t his Tea, but the other. The one he feared and loathed. How could he fail so utterly at paying attention? He started to shake his head only to feel a growl at his throat, his response an immediate jolt. He wrapped his arms around Tea’s shoulders, lifting off the bed just enough for the giant to return the hold. And he did return it. Fiercely. It would have been almost pitiful in any other situation. The growl turned back to a hum as Tea pressed down into him, body covering Aiden’s so easily Aiden could be smothered. His eyes were wide and watering, and he wanted to run. All he wanted was to run, but he was trapped under his lover, not his lover, his lover’s doppelganger, and he wasn’t letting him go, this heartless Tea wasn’t letting him go. Lips dragged up Aiden’s jaw and cheek and suddenly he felt that Tea was hard against him. A faint whimper escaped his lips and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from crying, crying out, admitting just how scared to death he was. Then Tea asked, “Will you kiss me like before?”

 

Aiden’s blood was now ice. He . . . he’d done that too . . . oh God, how fucking stupid was he? “No.” He didn’t realize he’d croaked the answer until it was too late. Until Tea was angrily crushing his lips to his. Aiden’s nails dug into the taller’s back and his joints unlocked at the intimate invasion of space. His insides screamed, but Tea was too heavy, he crushed Aiden against the mattress. Aiden kicked, scratched vocalized against the half skinwalker’s rough kiss as saltwater fought for freedom against his eyelids. He tried to turn his head away, tried to break it, but Tea bit his lips and a hand, from out of nowhere another hand, gripped his jaw and held him still. Aiden’s eyes shot wide again and he wound up staring at three eyes as two arms held him tight around the chest, one gripped his jaw, and the fourth . . . the fourth was sliding his shirt up. “No!” he screamed against the kiss, body trembling and thrashing under the other’s.

 

Aiden almost screamed when Tea’s bite drew blood this time, chest and gut heaving as Tea’s hand dragged down the fluctuating muscles towards his groin. “I really don’t like that word,” the heartless Tea whispered against Aiden’s bleeding lips. “Come on, kid. If you’re gonna fight, at least put up a real fight.” Then there was that trademark smile. “Or you could give me what I want.”

 

Tea’s face blurred as the tears came pouring from Aiden’s eyes. His voice was so small and weak as he pleaded, “Don’t. P-please don’t.” Maybe if he was quiet. Maybe if he was still. Maybe if he didn’t show any aggression at all, Tea would just leave it here. Maybe he could just watch and hover like he usually does, maybe—

 

“Give me more.” The demand was accompanied by the sound of tearing, and Aiden realized too late Tea had not only undone his zip but ripped his pants and underwear at the seams to expose his lower half.

 

His heart jumped in his throat just as he choked up, “T-Tea?” He was hyperventilating now, legs moving but unable to change the fact that he was now open and vulnerable to the half skinwalker. “Tea, n—”

 

“More,” the other snarled and suddenly the palm left his jaw and his legs were being spread wider. Head free, the ice in Aiden’s veins allowed him the energy to shake his head fiercely though he knew in the back of his mind it was futile. Nothing was going to stop Tea. Nothing was in his way now.

 

He just had to give him what he wanted.

 

Aiden wanted nothing more than to throw up, but instead he closed his tear-filled eyes and pulled himself up to kiss the giant. The heartless monster went from rigid and aggressive to soft and melting into him. His hold turned almost gentle and affectionate, his kiss almost as soft as Tea’s could be. Aiden could have almost, almost believed it was him. He could have.

 

If not for the gaping wound and the complete absence of Tea’s emotion in Aiden’s heart.

 

And the taller freeing his cock and pressing it into him anyway.

 

Aiden’s mouth and eyes were open, breath lodged in his throat as the pain set in and he couldn’t breathe, see, smell, hear, sense anything that wasn’t the heartless Tea. It was an ache that turned into a burning, repeating stab as Tea shifted slowly in him. His movements seemed to be an attempt at gentleness, a joke in comparison to how the real Tea would have reacted to this. Of all the things for Aiden’s mind to focus on, it was how Tea was going to cower and beg him for forgiveness when his heart grew back. Aiden’s outburst of screams wasn’t even just for his own pain, but the other’s. He hated this heartless copy of his lover. He hated and feared and despised and was terrified of him.

 

But he was giving him what he wanted.

 

The agony would be over soon.

 

Soon.


	41. Spider Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aren experiences going into season, and Tea provides him comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your daily soft smut.

Aren’s sleeping space was small compared to Tea’s, but not uncomfortable. Besides, Tea tended to stay curled around the smaller the nights he spent with him. So much so he hardly noticed the small space. He was used to being woken up by nuzzles and quick kisses and quiet murmurs, whether he was sleeping beside Aren or Aiden. Aiden was a bit more of a barnacle than Aren tended to be.

 

That wasn’t the case right then, however.

 

Tea stirred at the sound of a moan and the feeling of arms wrapped around his neck. The arms around him were accompanied by legs wrapped around his waist, Aren’s mouth buried against his jaw. The moans turned to whimpers and Tea started shushing the other, rubbing the unbranded portion of his back and raising his head just enough for the smaller to have access to his neck. Tea’s neck was black, blue, and purple, having suffered the other’s mouth for half a week now. He hummed a soft tune, being as reassuring as he could for the other in his time of need.

 

That Aren had trusted him enough to come out of hiding and tell him he’d been distant because he was in season meant the world to Tea. That he allowed Tea to comfort him to the best of his ability was an honor. He just hoped he didn’t accidentally hurt the smaller.

 

In truth, he was envious. Aren’s heat so far had not reached the violent levels Tea’s could. The most he had done to Tea was assault his throat. The first time it had happened he’d been caught wholly off guard and had sat bolt upright with a noise in his throat that couldn’t have been remotely human. Aren had apologized profusely afterwards. It wasn’t until Tea pulled the smaller’s head back to his neck that he understood it was okay for him to nip and tease the way he was doing.

 

Speaking of, Aren’s mouth was once again latched onto his throat. Tea sucked in a breath, back arching and eyes closing at the feeling. His neck was so sore he hadn’t thought Aren would find an unmarked spot. He had been incorrect. Aren continued to mottle his neck.

 

But judging by the way the smaller’s hips were moving against his stomach, his neck wasn’t the only thing he wanted to mottle at the moment. “Aren?” Tea asked, wanting to assure himself the other was indeed awake.

 

He let out a loud moan before loosing the needy murmur, “Rowan?”

 

A chill ran down Tea’s spine at the sound of his name on the other’s tongue. He bristled slightly at the breathy way it was spoken, concern growing for the other as he continued to whisper quiet reassurances. “It’s Rowan. I’m here, Raz.” Reality wasn’t always on their side. He wanted to be sure the other knew where he was and who he was with.

 

Another needy moan. “Rowan, please?” The arms around his neck loosened as small hands cupped his face and tilted it towards Aren’s. He was met with a brief kiss that stole Tea’s own breath as he realized what it was Aren wanted. “Please?” Another brief kiss. Then another. Tea was soon assailed with multiple little kisses, begging for his attention, begging for him. Tea was breathing heavily, heart hammering from . . . nervousness? Anticipation? This wouldn’t be his and Aren’s first time, but it felt . . . it felt important and Tea was worried. Aren’s pleas turned to barely inaudible whispers as he squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Tea’s shirt, pulling it up slightly as he squirmed against him. “I want you,” he whispered over and over. “Please, I want you.”

 

The other’s desire was seeping into his system despite his best defenses. His own breathing now labored, he let the fog in his mind settle just this once. One time. Aren needed him. He wanted to be here for him, and if that meant this . . . .

 

“You’re sure?” he asked out of habit. He couldn’t just throw himself into this without being certain Aren was alright.

 

Aren’s eyes were watering as he bit his lips, looking at Tea with a small nod that grew until Tea stilled his head with a kiss. His hands slid to the brand on Aren’s back and the smaller’s response was immediate. He arched against him and keened against his mouth, balling his fists in Tea’s shirt as his legs squeezed tighter around the taller’s waist.

 

Their movements felt slow and deliberate, Aren’s moans ringing in his ears the whole time they undressed. Tea’s mouth was on the other’s every chance he got, keeping track of Aren’s emotions and needs with the simple touch of lips. The closer he got to having Aren naked and under him, the more the feelings and desires mounted and filled his head with the assurance that this was alright. He could do this. He was what the other wanted, he was what Aren wanted.

 

Hands kneading the brand on his back, Tea started to roll them over only for Aren to trap Tea above him by locking his legs around his hips and drawing them to his. “Like this,” Aren said.

 

Tea nodded, wasting no time as he pushed into the smaller. He watched Aren’s face, gathered him up in his arms and kissed the fevered skin on his throat and face while listening to his cries. Fingers rubbing the brand furiously, he didn’t move until Aren was pushing onto his length of his own accord. Tea rocked against him, peppering him with kisses and holding him tight as Aren moaned and cried out and whimpered under him. The thrust of his body into the other’s left him feeling just as hot as the other, skin burning and muscles aching pleasantly from the exertion. Using his own mouth, he gently sucked a mark of his own onto Aren’s neck while the other’s nails dug into his shoulders. Tea’s tongue laved the newly bruised skin, and as soon as he was satisfied with the mark his lips returned to Aren’s and he picked up the pace.

 

Aren’s cries were music to his ears. There was a satisfaction to being privileged to hear these cries, to being allowed to witness the other rendered vulnerable at his hands. He held Aren close as he fell apart in his arms, refusing to stop clinging to the other so long as the other was clinging to him. He moved in and against him, thrusting and bucking and kissing and nipping and gasping and vocalizing. Tea continued to please Aren for as long as he wanted him and could provide.

 

And later when Aren was straddling him again and sweat clung to them both, Tea’s hands slide up his thighs and sides before resting on his back and pulling him down for yet another kiss. “I love you, Raz,” he whispered against the other’s lips.

 

The smile Aren loaned him was so pretty paired with him poised above Tea. “I love you, Rowan.”

 

It was amazing, how a set of words coupled with a name he no longer really used could make Tea feel like he actually was Aren’s sunshine.


	42. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea has a few cultists he watches over, all of whom have something in common with him: nightmares.

Ash rolled around on the mattress, head aching and fingers itching. She snarled in her sleep, teeth clacking together as she snapped them open and closed rapidly. She started clawing at the underside of the bed, stirring one of its owners awake.

 

Tea slid from his position drowsily, settling on the floor carefully before reaching under the bed. The bug in his head was running mad with the need to pursue Ash’s victim with her. Tea thought briefly about the glimpse he’d caught of her nightmare, and knew that though it was typical of her to indulge in a macabre activity such as putting a criminal to death (at least to him that was merely macabre and not monstrous) she did not need to wake herself up during hibernation. It would only irritate her.

 

So he had woken himself up despite Gemmy’s demand to take part in her dream. Touching her hands, he was satisfied when she stopped clawing at the bed and instead clung to his palm and wrist with a vicelike grip. He didn’t wince at her strength. Ash was a lot stronger than she looked, and when she grasped him like this it was easy to send waves of calm into her. Granted, it was also difficult not to feel the predatory and admittedly terrifying amount of desire to hunt within her. He kept it at bay as well as he kept Gemmy’s griping quiet in his mind.

 

Focusing his full energy on quieting her head, he knew it was working when she stopped thrashing. Her grip loosened, her jaws quit snapping, and, most importantly, her eyes remained closed. Ash’s breath evened out and he sighed as he whispered softly, “Rest up, kiddo.” He went to pull away so that he could go back to sleep.

 

But Ash still held his arm hostage.

 

Sighing, he got comfortable on the floor as he was. This was not the hardest surface he had slept on. She needed his arm a lot more than he did at the moment. Closing his eyes, he drifted off. She would release him eventually.

 

He thought.

 

\--

 

It wasn’t uncommon that Lola woke up screaming. What was uncommon was her inability to shake the dream as she typically did. Sitting with her forehead against her kneecaps, she rocked back and forth in a nervous bid to calm down. Small whimpers escaped her throat every so often, and soon she felt tears spilling down her cheeks.

 

It wasn’t until she felt a dip in the bed she looked up. When she did, she was met with her giant friend wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she had done for him many times. Once the comforter was draped over her shoulders, he reached for her nightstand to hand her the mug of tea he had brought for her. She took it and held it in her palms, the drink still steaming and the sides almost burning her hands. “How’d you know?” she asked, though she didn’t know why. She knew how Tea knew.

 

“Earwig.” He didn’t pull away as she leaned against his side. “Want to marathon something today?” Lola shook her head. “Okay.”

 

Burrowing deeper into his side, she hummed when he wrapped his arm around her covered shoulders. With a light squeeze, he started humming himself. A quiet tune she recognized. A pop song, most likely. It always astounded her how much music the other seemed to know. When did he have the time to listen? He always seemed so busy.

 

As soon as she recognized the rhythm and beat, she filled in the notes he missed while humming. Before long, the tea was cool enough to drink.

 

And she was no longer shaking.

 

\--

 

Tea went to his cabinet, seeing that someone had used a box of his fruit tea already and his stash of candy had depleted. His first thought was Aren, but then he saw that his kettle was still on the stove. Running his fingertips over the side briefly, it was still hot.

 

He looked off to the side at the sound of light snoring, and was moderately disappointed in himself for not having realized there was a fallen angel currently lying slumped over the kitchen table. Littered across the table were candy wrappers and not a cup but a whole bowl of fruit tea sat by her hands. Walking over and glancing inside, he could see the grains indicating that it was oversaturated in sugar. “Eve?” he asked, but the fallen angel continued right on snoring. He sighed. He couldn’t leave her like this.

 

“Tea?” he turned around to see Yin approaching in her pajamas. Her hands were shaking too. He gave her a sad glance as he quietly asked Gemmy if the Phobia was just plaguing everyone. The chuckle actually told him that no. This was fairly average for his loved ones. He just usually wasn’t awake for it. “What are you doing up?” Yin asked.

 

He smiled. It felt like he didn’t see her as much, so seeing her was actually pleasant in spite of the circumstances. “Much the same reason as you actually.”

 

She glanced down at the kitchen floor. “Is it that obvious?”

 

Tea didn’t know, truthfully. He only knew because of his heightened senses. Sometimes it was too difficult to read people without that additional bonus. “Only to me,” he answered. It wasn’t a lie, at least. "You got your soda?” Yin shook her head. “Let me put Eve to bed, then we’ll go out and get you some.”

 

“I thought Tapi put you on house arrest?”

 

Tea snorted. “I don’t think she’d notice if I disappeared for a bit.” The notorious leader had more important things to worry about than the whereabouts of the traitor. “Besides, we’re just taking a tunnel out to the general store.”

 

Yin hesitated. Then nodded. A small smile crept onto her face as he proceeded to scoop Eve up. The fallen angel stayed sound asleep. “Thanks Tea,” Yin murmured.

 

“No problem,” he responded as cheerily as he could while the angel remained heavy and limp in his arms, lightly snoring against his chest. “In the meantime, drink what’s left of that. All it needs is carbonation.” Then it really would be the average American diabetes in a cup. Or . . . bowl.

 

\--

 

When Tea was no longer able to stay awake, he dropped onto the bed with Aiden and curled around the other. Mind drifting off, he let it wander to an open field in a forested area. There he sat, a much younger version of himself. With him was a figure, whose black hair and gray eyes still managed to bring him so much comfort. Whose embrace was still warm to him. The figure always felt like a distant memory as he came awake, but she felt as much a part of his life as all those he sought to help.


	43. So Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very heartless Tea rather enjoys his time spent with Crazy Mom, or Problem when she has snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned for description of gore and creepiness.

“I love the ones that scream,” she quietly mused, locking the lumina’s limbs in place. “Make him scream again, dear.”

Her heartless assistant dropped the now broken leg of the lumina, the limb landing on the experimentation table with a loud thud. The lumina wailed at the pain as Tea moved around the table to his other leg. Tea’s grin was face splitting as he placed his palm flat on the poor subject’s kneecap, readying his aim before drawing back.

And slamming his hand down hard enough to shatter the patella and pop the joint.

The subject screaming was music to Problem’s ears. “Lovely,” she murmured, running a shadowy appendage over the face of the weeping lumina. This one had resisted so hard at first. She had almost given up and killed him straightaway. What was the point of this if she couldn’t enjoy a few pleasantries such as a well delivered cry of pain. “Son, where shall we cut first?”

Somehow the half skinwalker’s splitting grin widened. A third eye opened on his forehead as he responded, “I want the wings.”

Problem gave him a patient and yet daunting gaze. “We can’t get to them now that he’s strapped down, dear. You’ll have to pick something else.”

She could practically see his mouth watering as he pouted. “Then just cut through his chest and get to them that way,” Tea whined.

Problem tilted her head in thought. “If his wings are attached to his spine and rib cage,” and they removed the spine and ribcage, “hm . . . that’s an awful lot of cutting and maneuvering to get to a pair of wings. Are you sure you can wait that long to gnaw on them, dear?” The grin he gave her in response told her everything she needed to know. “Then grab us a few seats son. We are going to be here for quite some time.” She had never tried pulling wings through a body before. It would be a feat no matter the outcome. She wanted to see if she could pull them all out in one piece. Doubtful, but worth an attempt. “Also, pick up a clipboard and scribble some notes for me as we go.” Turning her attention to the horrified lumina’s face once again, Problem gave him a deceptively calm smile. “Today will be a lesson in anatomy. I hope you are ready to learn something, sweetie.”


	44. A Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it that Tea and Lee often conspire about when hanging out with one another?

“I don’t think that’s how this one goes together.”

“It’s a block. It goes with anything.”

“Yeah, but the picture—,” Lee took the box from his hand and threw it across the room and Tea just tilted his head and looked down at her as she continued assembling without the item. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t so much as glance up at him. “Now how exactly are we gonna finish this little project?”

“You don’t need instructions to build a craft.”

“Actually, you d—,” she held up a figure that silenced him completely. He stared at it, then took it from her hand when she offered it. He continued to stare at it, completely forgetting what it was he was going to say to her.

And Lee was giggling at how fixated on he was on the figure. “You can’t have him, he’s my boyfriend,” she declared. “I’m just letting you hold him.”

“Are you sure this is your boyfriend?” Tea asked with a smile and the quirk of an eyebrow. “He kinda looks like mine.”

“I know, isn’t it funny?” Lee said with a giggle. Then she turned serious again. “You still can’t have him.”

Tea shrugged. “I’ll adopt him in my head. There. Compromise. You’re now my daughter-in-law.”

Lee’s tail twitched as she started to laugh. Then footsteps reached their ears and they quieted. Lee yanked the blanket off the bed and threw it over their project and Tea stretched out across the floor to cover the view. His fist closed around the figure and he propped his head up on his elbow as Lee climbed over his back. Once at his side, she seated herself against him and began inconspicuously picking at her claws.

Aiden rounded the corner and, upon seeing the two of them, squinted. “What are you two up to?”

Tea gave another shrug. “Nothing.”

The human’s eyes narrowed further as he glanced over the two of them. “What’s under the blanket?”

“What blanket?” Lee blurted out, not looking up from her palms.

Aiden tilted his head, but received no other response from the two. He then proceeded to back away from the door, quietly uttering, “I saw nothing.”

They waited a little while longer for the footsteps to fade, then listened out for anymore encroaching threats. Once they were certain they were safe, Lee got up and bolted for the door. Closing it, Tea then glimpsed at the Kai figurine in his palm. “Jesus, they really do look alike.”

“They do, now gimme.”

Tea laughed as Kai was forcibly removed from his palm. Twisting about so that he was facing their project once again, he threw back the blanket so they could resume building their Lego kit.


	45. A Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going out with friends was one of Tea's favorite pastimes.

Tea picked a berry and tossed it over the bush into Aren’s open mouth, grinning and chuckling at the other’s look of absolute bliss over the fruit he’d consumed. “How do you expect us to gather enough berries to make a pie if you’re eating all of them?” Amaya chastised playfully.

With a nod towards his basket, Tea declared, “I’m almost full on berries.”

One of Amaya’s eyebrows ticked up. “Mmhmm. And Aren?” The smallest of the three peered over the tall bush innocently, eyes big and lips covered in berry juice. “How is your basket?”

“Um . . .,” Aren trilled, before slowly bringing his basket into view. His rather empty basket. 

Rather empty, but not entirely so. Tea listened to Amaya count the berries, snickering as she shook her head. “Fourteen berries survived. Fourteen out of how many?”

“I swear I showed restraint,” Aren replied.

“Oh?” Amaya’s tail swished back and forth, slapping her sides as she tilted her head.

“Yeah, I’d pick one and then eat one.” Tea’s shoulders shook as he covered his mouth and looked down, refraining from laughing even more than he had. Aren saw this and called out, “It’s a perfectly good system.”

“My word, you’re going to ruin your appetite for the actual pie,” Amaya said, her laughter a little less well concealed as Tea’s.

“No I won’t,” Aren determined.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Amaya replied.

Aren and Tea came to stand by one another, Tea nudging Aren slightly with his elbow as they were led away from the patch of wild berries. “You still gotta get through my portion of the pie,” he determined.

Aren gave him a noticeable pout, which was unlike his partner. Usually he jumped at the offer of sweets. “Sure you can’t at least try some?” Tea shook his head. His body simply would not allow him to consume anything remotely solid.

Amaya then interjected, “We’re setting aside a portion of the filling and infusing it with black tea. We’ll see how you can stomach that first, dear.”

The smallest beamed hopefully up at the Chandelier, and Tea couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. “You must have heard I can eat green tea filling from a certain vampire.”

“For a community as large as this one, word travels fast,” Amaya reasoned. “Significantly when you have a spider on your shoulder at almost all hours of the day.” Tea almost went stiff and froze in place before he realized Amaya was referring to Aren and not an actual spider. With a sigh of relief, he caught Aren smiling sheepishly at the near panic before uttering a quick apology and looking down. Though Tea’s heart was still beating faster than typical over the statement, he wrapped an arm around Aren’s shoulders and squeezed. The smallest hummed, and Amaya looked over her shoulder fondly at the two. “This year has been off to a fairly decent start,” she said, changing the subject.

“I agree,” Tea said, grinning at the two he had been spending a considerable amount of time with lately. He had met and drawn close to so many so rapidly. Sometimes it was difficult to keep up with how much had changed. How quickly things had changed. It seemed like it was only yesterday he was waking up anew.

He wasn’t sure what the future held in store for him. He was sure, however, that he wasn’t going to face it alone.

Not while he had such amazing, considerate, and above else loving company as these two.


	46. The First Purr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prior to the Candle Cult, Tea developed the habit of locking himself in a room every time he went into heat. This is why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An emotionally abusive recollection, with implied history of non-con.

His first thought was that he was going to be in so much trouble. He’d purred. He had purred in the middle of a conversation with a Master. The look she had given him was so . . . degrading. He’d left the room as quickly as beastly possible, covering his mouth the whole way. But the purring did not stop. His face and neck were hot with embarrassment, his ears burning so much there had to be people talking about the incident. He fought the purring. He fought it so much harder than he had ever had to fight his vocalizations before. Reaching his room, both hands clamped over his mouth and all he want-ed to do was curl up under the bed or in the closet or somewhere dark and just hide. Hide from the punishment due to come down on him for letting out any inhuman noise. Hide from the fact that he wasn’t able to stop this vocalizing no matter how hard he tried.

Hide from his Master.

He wanted to hide from Liam.

His next thought, which came as he was sitting on the edge of his bed rocking back and forth trying to stop the purring, was that he was hot. He was so . . . so hot. Sweat was gathering on the covered por-tions of his skin and he was terrified. Terrified to strip off the coat. Terrified to give himself some air. The harsh lights of the Puppeteers Headquarters hurt his eyes so much, the windowless walls suffocat-ed him in ways he had never gotten used to. He pondered and pondered until his brain was frying from the heat and his thinking, wondering if Liam would really call him insubordinate if he removed his coat and gloves in his own room. He hadn’t before, but he had already gotten caught sounding off in front of another Master. He could just hear Liam asking him if he was a cat, if he needed to be left in a barn to catch mice. He imagined Lance shoving a live mouse into his mouth and forcing him to bite down on its head and end its life and oh God no he couldn’t he couldn’t—

Tea started sobbing. The purrs turned to whines that coupled with the sobs. Before he knew it, he was shucking off the gloves and coat. The relief was short-lived as he continued imagining how he was go-ing to pay for this display of his lack of control. Why couldn’t he control it? What was going on? Was he ill? He had to be ill, that was the only explanation. He’d never . . . he had never gotten sick before. Was this what illness for skinwalkers was supposed to look like?

He couldn’t help it. He wanted to scream at Liam that he couldn’t help it this time, but he was scared. He was scared of the consequences. The same old question rolled around in the back of his head as he crashed onto his side and burrowed into the mattress. Crushing his face with his pillow, a pit started forming in his gut that he didn’t recognize. Curling into the fetal position, he kicked off his socks and shoes and Jesus, even his feet were sweating. This was so far beyond any fever he had had to witness, he had no idea what to do. And now even the sheets and blankets of his not so comfortable bed were sweltering. Could he lie on the stone floor? Could he just lie on the stone floor and let it chill him?

Stripping off his shirt, he took his now boiling and sweat covered pillow with him as he stretched out on the floor. He sighed for only a few moments, the whines reduced to purrs once again as his hot, tear stained face was pressed to the cool floor. Again, his relief was short-lived. Soon his skin had heated the stone beneath him up to unbearable temperatures, and he was having to roll to find cool spots again. He felt dirt from his shoes and grime from his unclean floor sticking to his sweat slicked skin, his sobs returning as he realized he could find no comfort. He could find absolutely none in this state.

And the nature of his state didn’t occur to him until the door cracked open and in walked the person he most feared.

“Do you have something to tell me, boy?”

He was in the fetal position again, curled tight into a ball as involuntary whimpers poured from his lips. His eyes were wide with terror as he stared tearfully at the wall. “I’m-m sorry M-Master.” His panic made his heart beat faster, his stomach churn, his body tremble. The footsteps drew nearer and he antic-ipated the pain that would come with these transgressions. “I’m sorry, Idon’tknowwhat’swrong. Idon’tknowwhat’shappening.” The words spilled out of his mouth as Liam came closer and he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d feel those hands. Soon, he would feel those cold, cruel, painted hands on him and he was scared. He was so scared. “I’mtryingtostopI’mtrying. Masterplease—”

“Come here.” The order came when Liam was at the foot of Tea’s bed, Tea cowering beside it. His senses screamed in response to the order and his nerves flared in unusual ways. It had never burned this much to obey. It burned to resist. Not to obey.

And yet the act of getting up on his hands and knees to crawl over to his Master left him shaking and whimpering as much as if he had flatly refused to listen. Everything within him twisted as he dragged himself up and towards him. “Please,” he begged, tears falling from his eyes and leaving a trail on the floor with his sweat as he crawled closer. Head down and eyes partly closed, he pleaded, “PleaseMas-ter, Ireallyamtrying. IamI’mreallytrying.” His words all ran together in his desperation to appeal to Liam, to tell him he wasn’t in control. It was clear he wasn’t in control but, it was different. This was different than the other times. He was sick. He had a fever, his insides were uncomfortably tight. He was so very sick.

And Liam didn’t bother responding to his pleas. Not verbally. Tea’s scream of terror was cut off as Liam yanked his head up by his hair and gave the order, “Look at me.” Tea’s teeth chattered as his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, slid open. His Master’s gaze was as cold and calculating as ever, stern and disappointed in the sight before him. On his knees he trembled, the roots of his tightly gripped hair giving under pressure and his torso was already exposed. He was exposed. He was vulner-able. He was trapped. His insides were tight, his eyes felt dilated to the point of near blindness, his fin-gers itched to . . . to touch. The area on his scalp where he actually was being touched . . . he purred. He squirmed in his place on his knees and . . . .

He was . . . .

He had an . . . .

He understood.

He understood, but . . . how? It didn’t make any sense. He was in his thirties, he’d long since matured, if he had a season it would have appeared before now.

Right?

And yet . . . here he was. And . . . he was . . . succumbing . . . .

“M-Master?” He panted, staring up at the man to whom he belonged. He could . . . Tea hurt just think-ing of it. He hurt so much. Everything felt so constricted and coiled. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to end, but he would be trading that pain for a different sort of pain. Why . . . why did that pain not seem as . . . scary? He whimpered, Liam releasing his hair. Tea’s head lowered, and soon he was bending over and bowing to the ground before Liam. “Master,” he murmured again. He was shaking. He was shaking so much. And Liam was quiet. Quiet and watching. He always seemed to know when silence was the fitting punishment. And Tea was being punished. In more ways than one, and not just by his Master, Tea was being punished. “Master . . . p-please.” He couldn’t stop shivering. It was as constant as the purring and vocalizing now. He knew what he was asking for. He had never asked . . . he had never wanted it. But if it could make this stop . . . if it could make the tightness go away . . . his palms started to slide towards Liam’s feet, ready to cup and kiss them if he had to. “Mas-ter, pleas-se. Ineed—”

His silence wasn’t achieved by a strike, or even an order. No, it came when Liam lifted the toe of his shoe and pressed it under Tea’s chin. It dragged up the column of his throat, tilting his head up. Tea’s eyes closed and unfamiliar chills spread over his body. The touch. It wasn’t even skin on skin. But it . . . it . . . he moaned. He hated himself for the sound, the response he made. He hated himself because of all the people to hear him make such a sound . . . .

It had to be Liam.

Liam, who had done everything in his power until now to be his first. Not his only, but definitely his first.

That power, that privilege, was what Tea was riding on. He squirmed uncomfortably, feeling the shift in his pants and the tightness in his gut indicating that the thought of riding anything in any sort of way . . . oh . . . he growled.

Which elicited a hum from his Master. A hum that left him cowering and whimpering once again. “Roll over.” It wasn’t an order. Not a proper one, meant to override his will. But Tea did it anyway. He lay back and rolled onto his stomach, keeping his face down. His whole body was tense. Tense and waiting for Liam’s decision. God, he didn’t want this. He didn’t. He really didn’t. And yet he did. More tears. More whines. It was the only way. “All the way over.” Again, not a complete order, but Tea rolled onto his back all the same. He closed his eyes, afraid to look at his Master. His Master, who had always had all the power. Please, Tea thought. Please . . . use that power. “Spread your legs.” Tea whined loudly, but he didn’t hesitate. “Wider.” His brow furrowed. Oh God. In the back of his mind, he knew this would hurt. It always hurt in some way. He didn’t want the pain, but he needed . . . he needed . . . . “Do you understand what this makes you?”

Tea . . . was confused. “L-Liam—?”

“What would people think?” Tea didn’t . . . he . . . what? “If they saw you like this, do you know what they would think?” Tea’s legs shook. He . . . he . . . no. He didn’t . . . no. “That you’re an animal.” The word was sneered, the hiss of it so loud and unforgiving in Tea’s ears that he closed his legs and rolled onto his side again. He curled into a ball, shame washing over and through him. “You’re a disgusting animal. You don’t even have the dignity not to beg.”

“I’msorry.” He had made a mistake. Sobbing, he had made a huge mistake.

“Why should I indulge something like this?” Liam stepped around Tea’s prone body, coming to stand at his head as he leered down at him. The judgment in his tone destroyed Tea. He was already in agony, and Liam just tripled it. All with one word: animal. “Do you not recall the last time I let everyone take you as they desired?”

Tea bristled at the thought, horror overriding his need. “Masterno, pleaseMaster—”

“No? You were so needy before.”

“Master, pleasedon’t.” Tea was sobbing at the thought. No. Anything but that. Couldn’t he just have Liam? He belonged to him after all, what was so wrong with that? He was Liam’s property, couldn’t his Master do with him what he wanted?

“I see,” Liam crouched down, and a cool hand suddenly rested on the side of Tea’s face. Without his consent, he pressed up into that hand. The action sent a jolt of electricity through him. “Look at your-self, Rowan,” his Master leered. “You don’t know what you want.” The hand was removed and Tea twisted so that his whole face was pressed into the sweat and tear slicked stone. “Don’t I always know what’s best for you, boy?” Tea didn’t try to answer over his vocalizations. He simply nodded. “You can’t handle the pain of a season spent with another. It would be in your best interest to wait until it’s over.” Liam stood and walked away. “I will inform the others that your duties shall be filled by some-one else. You are not well and must be quarantined.”

Tea went stiff, then gazed up at Liam. His Master stood by the door. Quarantined . . . he meant to—, “Master—?”

“Stay here until you are yourself again. Only then will I listen to you.” He opened the door and started to leave. “For now, I will make sure no harm comes to you in such a fragile state.” The door started to close and Tea couldn’t stop crying, he started to scream and he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. “Rest up, Rowan.”

He screamed. He cried. He buried himself and uncovered himself, vainly seeking a relief that would never come to him. He suffered for two of the longest weeks of his whole life. On the third week he was so cramped and crippled from the aftershocks he could do nothing but lie still and hold himself. No one else was going to hold him. No one else ever would.

Tea was an animal. Nothing more than a filthy beast unfit to handle his own needs or make his own de-cisions. He could try, but they would all inevitably lead to more pain. On the one hand, he had never been so grateful to Liam for sparing him and not abusing him in the manner he had almost wanted. On the other hand . . . .

He was once again reminded of just how alone he was.


	47. What Once was Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though he never did to Tea what Tea's masters had, Aiden had a way of hurting Tea worse in the days where he was heartless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very cruel beating ahead, but no non-con outside of implication luckily

“So you forgot your fucking place again.” 

Tea flinched as the other approached, still on his knees but scooting back quickly as Aiden stomped towards him. “No. No, I didn’t—”

“Shut up!” Aiden’s foot connected with Tea’s jaw and he was on the ground fully now.

It had been a mistake. A stupid mistake. Aiden had told him to get out of the way. He hadn’t. He’d kept doing what he’d been ordered to do. Aiden had shoved him. He’d shoved back.

Lance had caught him.

And agreed to turn a blind eye to whatever Aiden wanted to do to him in retaliation.

Tea scrambled to get away from him, clamping down on the screams and sounds that were forbidden to leave his throat. Choking on his own tongue, he started to plead, “I’m sorry, I—”

Another kick to the face. This time something popped and pain burst within his nose along with a gush of blood from his nostrils. His teeth were sore from the kick also, gums throbbing and fangs aching as the red liquid seeped in past his lips. He moved to cover his face, unwittingly exposing his torso. Aiden took advantage.

Then proceeded to stomp and kick his gut until there were a total of three more audible cracks of bone.

Tea. Couldn’t. Breathe.

His vision gone dark, he could just picture the bruises blooming above broken ribs and on damaged or-gans. Once the onslaught stopped, he curled protectively in the fetal position. Closing his eyes, his shiv-ers sent pain spiking through his entire being. His eyes felt hot from tears that wanted to fall, but they didn’t come. He let out a choked sob that was so much more painful than had he not just been kicked to the point of hurting to breathe.

Aiden’s palm grasped the collar of Tea’s coat roughly, yanking him up onto his seat. Tea gasped, im-mediately stiffening and regretting the action as he instinctually gripped Aiden’s forearm for balance and to ease the pressure on his broken ribs. Aiden growled, eyes glowing red as he wrenched one of Tea’s palms from his arm and twisted his wrist in the wrong direction. Tea’s mouth gaped, a strangled sound of pain masking the break. “Let go,” Aiden ordered. Tea did. He released the other, body sag-ging backwards as the only thing keeping him up was Aiden’s fist on his collar. “You’re not supposed to fight back, beast.” Tea cradled his wrist to his chest, then recoiled as Aiden’s fist drove into his side. Tears spilled then. “Remember?” Tea’s eyes slid open briefly, his vision still black around the edges but Aiden’s face was just close enough he could make it out through the blur. He stared up at the Master, trembling and waiting for the next blow. 

He let out another mouthed, “I’m sorry.” He felt the blood gathering and pooling on his tongue, the breaks in his nose, ribs, and wrist all throbbing in time with his rapid pulse. He felt the bruises growing in number just from the few hard hits the other had dealt to him. He cried, but he couldn’t bring him-self to utter any more than the broken, “I’m sorry.”

“You never fucking learn do you?”

“I—”

“Nothing gets retained in that stupid head of yours, does it monster?” Another punch, Tea’s gasp acci-dentally spraying blood on Aiden’s face. His eyes widened in terror as he flinched from his raised fist.

But the next hit didn’t come.

Tea’s eyes slid open again, and he stared at the blurred version of Aiden’s face.

For a moment . . . .

A very.

Brief.

Moment.

He saw Aiden’s features soften. A quick blink of confusion. A twitch of his lips in disgust. Not with Tea, but with . . . something else. Someone else. His brow lost its crease and . . . .

Tea just stared.

He stared, recalling another time. Another place. Another version of the two of them. And he wished, more than anything . . . .

That he hadn’t seen that expression.

Because as soon as he saw it change back to something angrier, bitterer, his heart broke all over again the same way it had done the night of his changing. “A-Aiden?”

“Do I need to get them to punish you?” The cruelty was back. The hatred was back.

And Tea was right back to begging, only now he was twelve again and he was sobbing. “No, Aiden—”

“Seems to be the only way you’ll listen now.” Palms slid past Tea’s collar and suddenly the Master’s hands were wrapped around his throat.

Tea’s eyes shot wide and all other pains dulled as Aiden’s hands started to squeeze. “P-please!” he simpered once more as his throat was closed off.

Aiden pressed him into the ground, straddling his waist and crushing him even further. “You’d be,” everything hurt, “better,” Tea’s vision was fleeing him, “off,” all that was left was Aiden’s voice, “dead.”

Aiden’s voice and suffocating darkness.

When Tea woke up, which he did not expect to, he was lying in the same spot where Aiden had pinned him. He felt heavy, and every little movement hurt. Even an eye roll left him gasping. He had no idea how he was going to dust himself off and head back to his duties without bleeding everywhere, or causing himself more damage. In the meantime, he recalled the last instance of contact he’d had with Aiden.

He recalled the change.

He recalled the response.

And though he wasn’t strong enough to get up and get back to work, he was weak enough to curl up once more and continued the sobbing he had started. His neck and throat hurt from the pressure that had knocked him out. His body hurt from the punishment for starting a fight. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.

But nothing compared to the pain of a memory long lost.


	48. Cannibalize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea gets a maintenance call to a dark church with a demon waiting for him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GORE AND DUBIOUS CONSENT AHEAD THIS IS FILTH

Just a checkup, she said. It’ll be easy, she said. He’d approached the unassuming building confidently, feeling alright in that he’d never actually met the inhabitant before. Still, rumors of himself persisted throughout the cult to this day. He could only imagine what the infamous Reverend had heard.

Not what he had expected.

He’d anticipated many things. Puppeteer. Beast. Master. Spy. Traitor. The last thing he had expected . . . .

Was to be greeted by darkness as the door locked shut behind him. Tea spun about, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could see easily in the dark, but he was also startled. “H-hello?” he asked nervously. His heart pounded. He dropped the clipboard he had been carrying and it clattered on the floor. He could . . . he could just . . ., “I’ll come back later.” Perhaps when it was light out. He turned back to the doors, pushing on them but—

They were stuck.

Tea had to admit: after fifty plus years of being a member of an organization like the Puppeteers, he didn’t spook easily. But at the same time, after being a member of an organization like the Puppeteers, he should be extremely concerned right now.

And he was.

He was about to call out and say the fun was over, let him go now. He didn’t want to summon his hammer and smash his way out. He would. Then he’d fix it later, but he would do it in the event this wasn’t a joke.

But then a palm was tearing into his chest as a deep, accented voice murmured, “Forgive me.”

This pain was so familiar to him, he almost didn’t blink at it. Almost. Before Tea could scream, protest, retaliate, do anything of the sort . . . his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw the demonic Reverend standing there.

Tea’s heart in his hand.

Tea’s eyes honed in on the blood and skin which dripped and slid over the organ in the cultist’s palm. He watched it, his mind slowly spinning as the pain numbed. The shift wasn’t immediate. It was a gradual drain of all of his emotions until he was hollowed. Until he felt just as cavernous as his chest did then. He grinned. The grin split open his face, his tongues dividing and his third eye opening. Moonlight poured in through stained glass and he could see Reverend perfectly.

Reverend who watched carefully through a pair of glasses, taking mental notes as he stared.

Well . . . he would just have to help him now, wouldn’t he?

“You know, it’d be a shame,” a second pair of arms appeared as his torso lengthened to accommodate, “to waste such a perfectly good meal.”

A waste indeed. The now heartless Tea licked his lips.

And lunged.

\--

One moment he was on his feet, upright and studying the specimen he had been curious about. The Puppeteer with a heart was actually capable of losing said heart. After he had heard the rumors of the beast and its hunger, one could say he felt a kinship with him.

And so he had sought an audience with the heartless version of the notoriously kind Chandelier.

He hadn’t anticipated the Chandelier would barrel him to the ground and pin his arms above his head. Reverend grunted, glasses slipping off and under a pew while the heart tumbled from his hand. His legs trapped under the body of the creature, he glared somewhat blindly up at three golden rings that served as the beast’s eyes. “Unhand me,” he growled, squirming in the hold.

The beast’s laugh sent a chill through him, one that rendered him completely still. “You look frustrated, demon.” A third hand brushed down the front of Reverend’s chest as a fourth reached up to grasp the lump of flesh that had rolled from the cultist’s hand. There was no forgiveness in the grip on Reverend’s arms. The creature had him trapped, and at a major disadvantage despite having begun the experiment with odds in his favor. A maintenance call to his domain. A domain the Chandelier was unfamiliar with but he knew intimately. Lack of light so that it took some time for the reputedly nocturnal individual to adjust his eyes. He had thought to do everything correctly except set a trap which bound the Chandelier’s hands, but he had not wanted to defile his sanctuary any more than it already had been.

Or was going to be.

Bloodied flesh suddenly pressed to his lips. With a gasp he grunted, “What—?” only to realize it was the organ he had ripped from the larger man’s body. Black blood dribbled over his chin and lips as Tea held it to his mouth and pushed the organ in.

“You must be hungry.” Reverend didn’t turn away as the organ pushed past his teeth. His tongue now dancing against the black and purple flesh, he hesitated as he stared up at the golden eyes watching him. For whatever reason, he started shaking. This was . . . not a wholly unfamiliar situation for him. His appetite had notoriety of its own. He simply had not expected his appetite to be the one sated during this happenstance. “Go on, demon. Take a bite.” He could almost see the split grin on the beast’s face. “You never know until you try it, right?”

Reverend’s eyes widened as his stomach growled, teeth clenching around the organ and digging in slowly. Vessels popped against his jaws and the remainder of whatever blood was inside the heart spilled down his throat. He growled, continuing to bite off the chunk and let it slide down his throat. His eyes fluttered shut.

And his head moved forward to devour the rest.

The heartless Tea chuckled above him, watching as he bit into the much, much too sweet flesh and blood of the Chandelier and swallowed it piece by piece. Reverend’s fists clenched beneath the beast’s hands, his shirt collar growing bloody as he consumed the organ. He groaned at the flavor, which his mouth and the lower half of his face was currently covered in. The groans turned to sharp and famished growls and grunts as he went to consume more only to find he had eaten it all. Instead of drawing back, he rubbed his face into the bloodied palm. He smeared black over his nose and cheeks, drawing in the scent of the organ now resting within his stomach. His eyes slid open, and a single undignified breath of a word slipped from his lips.

“More.”

Golden eyes widened and palms clasped tighter around Reverend’s wrists. “You really were hungry, weren’t you?” Tea murmured playfully as Reverend arched at the pressure his grip placed on his joints. “So am I.” A frustration boiled within Reverend, which was only matched by the anticipation he felt. “And you’ve already had your taste.”

Blurred movements. Swift hands. There were fangs in his neck and shoulder. Talons tearing his clothing. Reverend snarled and bucked, screaming as his protests made the heartless Chandelier bite harder, tear faster. Blood ran over the floor of his church, blood he would have to clean up eventually. For now he twisted about in a vain attempt to bite back, only managing to tear himself open more under the mouth of the beast.

He didn’t realize just how shredded his clothing was in his desperation to quench his thirst for blood. He didn’t realize the heartless was exposing the rest of his body until talons cut into his abdomen, dragging downward from the bottom of his ribs to his naval. Reverend’s eyes shot wide at the pain, his hunger suddenly trumped by agony as Tea’s mouth left his neck and trailed down his naked chest. His bit holes into Reverend’s body the whole way down, making the cultist scream and buck and attempt to free his wrists once again. All he managed to do was aid in the heartless Chandelier’s mission to rip him open.

Reverend’s teeth clacked together as he snapped his jaws repeatedly, wanting to taste the other again. It wasn’t fair he had gotten such a small piece while Tea was about to gut him it seemed.

Gut him . . . among other things . . . .

The Chandelier slid back up his torn body, licking his lips and sucking at the blood dribbling down his face and neck loudly and obnoxiously. He whispered quiet exclamations of how delectable the demon was while Reverend snapped his teeth. There was a long, hard length pressed against him. Reverend had a vague train of thought, which pointed out the quickness with which the other could move while pinning him with two hands and cutting him up with the other two. “You are a bastard!” he declared as he realized just what it was the heartless beast was intending to do to him.

“This guy’s parents were married, thank you very much. Shouldn’t you value the sanctity of such a union?” Reverend’s upper body bore the tatters of his torn clothes as clawed hands split the seams of his trousers and boxers all at once, leaving his legs clothed but his groin and rear exposed. “Shouldn’t you value the sanctity of this holy place, demon?”

The leer was visible enough that Reverend watched it and snapped his jaws again. More. He wanted. More. To devour more. Consume more. He twisted this way and that under the beast, snarling harshly, lowly, “More! More!”

“Gluttony is a sin, is it not?” The length was rubbing against his ass now, its hot head teasing him. “Lust? Greed? Envy? Those things sound familiar to you?”

The commentary only made Reverend’s blood boil more. “You dare to take from me and now you think you can preach?” To him? What a horrendous creature he had unleashed.

Tea guffawed, his body twitching and shaking against Reverend in ways that should have made his skin crawl. “You started it.” The Chandelier pushed into him then, the pain ripping and burning as he was laid open under him. “Father!”

The agony burned white holes in his vision as Tea drove into him relentlessly. Reverend felt talons in his wrists, bloody saliva dribbling onto his bloody torso, a throbbing cock inside of him splitting skin he hadn’t realized could split. He screamed, baring his teeth and howling in the wake of the pain that let him twisting. Tea had given him more, but not more of what he wanted.

And it was infuriating.

His joints were locking up in protest and his spine ached from how it arched beneath the other. “You . . . you . . .,” he couldn’t even insult the other, and oh boy did he want to.

Tea laughed. “You wanted more.” Not of this. He wanted more of the black blood, the sweet flesh, the organ he had ripped out and stolen fair and square. He wanted more of that. “Ask me for something specific, demon. Do you want something special?”

Reverend growled, snapping his jaws once again. Would he . . . would he give him what he asked for? His eyes narrowed on the glowing gaze, barely seen through the white spots in his vision. He salivated, spittle mixing with the black that remained on his teeth and tongue from mere moments before. “Liver,” he said quietly.

His growling ceased when the Chandelier actually reached into the hole Reverend had created in his torso earlier, angling his arm so that he was pulling something from his body. There was a loud, harsh, wet sound as the connection of the organ to the rest of him was severed, and a pop as the liver was pulled from the hole. Whole hand bloody and holding the organ, Reverend let out a small whimper as he stared longingly at the lump.

And could have cried as it was brought to his lips.

“You’ve been a good boy,” the heartless Tea declared as he watched Reverend engorge while he thrust into him. “Treat yourself.”

Reverend certainly did.

A mix of different colored blood stained the church floor that night, along with a myriad of other fluids. But neither cultist was getting through the night without satisfying their starvation.


	49. Green Tea Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea finds a new friend in a local restaurant owner, who finds something he can actually eat and enjoy.

“I brought something else today.”

“Oh?” Meeting with the Scorpion King was always a treat for Tea. They sat inside The Pincer after hours and talked, Scorpius relaxing as he introduced to Tea various brands and selections of his preferred drink. On this day, however, he presented Tea with a lidded, Styrofoam cup with a straw. This was far from the fanciness he was used to with Scorpius, and it made his eyebrows lift. “Have you changed your mind about liking me?” He was aware the Scorpion King was clearly in possession of some poison.

Thankfully, Scorpius wasn’t offended. He laughed at the joke as he pushed the cup closer. As Tea accepted it, he wrapped both palms around the material and felt how chilly it was. “I wanted you to try something.”

“What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?”

Tea tilted his head in worry, glancing between Scorpius and the cup. “I feel like I should be concerned.”

Scorpius shook his head. “It’s got tea in it. And it’s liquid. Meets all your requirements, but hopefully introduces something different to your system. You know?”

Tea nodded in understanding. He took a deep breath. “Guess I better not prolong it.” It was cold, so it was meant to be served cold. He should taste it while it was fresh.

Bringing the straw to his lips, he took a long pull on the treat. It took some doing to actually bring anything up to his lips, and once the taste hit his tongue . . . .

He couldn’t conceal the moan. He closed his eyes and let the cream melt in his mouth. Green tea reached his senses and for a moment he thought of his home away from home. Milk softened the earthiness, reminding him of the softness of his closest and dearest friends. The sweetness that permeated his senses and enhanced the earthiness . . . ah, that reminded him of many members of his adoptive family. All the flavors and the thickness and the chill rolled over his tongue and down his throat with ease.

And he didn’t feel sick in the slightest.

Eyes sliding open, he rested the cup on the table and held it in both hands as he continued to pull on the beverage. He glanced thankfully to Scorpius, who looked at him with the purest excitement. “You like it?”

Tea had a mouthful of the cream as he pulled enough to declare, “I love it.” Swallowing, he asked, “What is it?” before returning to drawing more into his mouth. He had not consumed anything other than tea in so long, and never anything this wonderfully sweet. It must be a dessert of some form. Something luxurious. Scorpius was fond of such things, it had to be expensive.

“It’s a green tea ice cream milkshake.” Scorpius’s tail clicked as he shifted happily in his seat. “Really, I’m relieved you’re actually able to eat it.”

Tea hummed, then let go of the drink before reaching across the table and pulling one of Scorpius’s hands into both of his. Shaking it, he gulped down another mouthful and lifted his head to say, “Thank you. So much.” It was the first real dessert other that Gabriel’s greet tee filling and Amaya’s black tea fruit paste he had been able to sample without getting ill. “Where on earth did you get this?”

Scorpius stared at him in wonderment, as if the question he asked was strange. “Have you never had ice cream before?” Tea shook his head no. A flicker of pity crossed over Scorpius’s face. “It’s really easy to make. And get. You can just buy the green tea ice cream and mix it yourself.”

Tea’s eyes widened. “Really?” He started rubbing his throat with one hand. Oh boy, it was cold. His insides were starting to protest against the rapid consumption of the frozen treat.

And he was actually starting to get full just from the few pulls.

Tea hadn’t felt that weight in so long, and usually it wasn’t pleasant.

He liked it this time.

Scorpius got up, tapping the table with his palm once. “I’ll show you how to make it. It’s easy.”

Tea got up, following the other into the kitchen (with his drink in his palms). There, he had his first lesson in making milkshakes with Scorpius. He stored this memory somewhere safe in his mind, cherishing it and adoring the time he spent with the Scorpion King.

There were few who could attest to seeing Tea consume something other than tea. Scorpius was now one of those miraculous few.


	50. Lonely Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea has a habit he is slightly embarrassed of and Charta capitalizes on it.

It was stupid. Tea knew it was. But it was a habit he'd developed upon first experiencing the freedoms the cult allotted him. There were many singers and musicians in the area, one in particular Nicoli was adamant that he should meet. Others he must never hear their music. An average person succumbs to the songs of sirens with ease, he couldn't imagine what would become of him.

At the very least, he was introduced to new genres and utterly surrounded by music. Before, whenever alone he'd hum a tune he would catch Masters and Toys listening to. It was never intentional, often something he did while absentmindedly performing a menial task. He had gotten caught a few times, been snickered at and told he was tone deaf. That had only ensured he would him quieter next time however. Like his vocalizations, sometimes it just got out of hand for him.

The longer he spent with the cult and the more free time he had, the louder he got. His humming adapted. Soon he was doing percussion with his lips. Then he was playing other invisible instruments in lieu of actual ones. His mouth ran away with him, galloping after the radio and taking a trip into a world of sound.

It wasn't long before he was outright singing while alone and doing whatever Tapi assigned him.

He thought it would take him much longer to start singing again after he woke up from his coma. It had taken a while yes, but he had also started the old habit up again just as blissfully as though he'd never been made fun of for it. Or caught. Or any other bad experience that came along with opening his mouth.

In truth, he only realized it was starting again on one particular afternoon. Lonely Island was playing. It was a collaboration with Nicki Minaj. It was goddamn hilarious.

And he was doing his fucking best to keep up.

Scrubbing dishes in time with the beat, he stumbled over lyrics. He only managed to get a few words in before he was stuttering and making up the words again. He burst out laughing as soon as Nicki started rapping. Her speed and rhythm were ridiculously fast and he was ridiculously lacking in the rap department.

That's when he heard it. The beep of a recording turning off, and a low whistle of an unenthused audience.

Tea spun on his heel and slammed a wet palm down onto the radio, silencing it. Of all the people to come face to face with, he did not expect it to be the living page. Charta, the emotionless magical construct. Charta, the somewhat dickish void. Charta, the disappearing act wise (or cautious) enough to hide from danger.

Charta, the cultist currently smacking his palm against the side of a smart phone.

“What are you doing?” Tea asked, clearing his throat as if he hadn't been singing. Charta didn't answer, instead holding his phone up like he was still recording Tea. Tea knew he was recording. He saw the blinking, heard the vibrations. And he wanted to snatch the device from the other's hand. Face purpling in embarrassment, he reiterated the question much slower.

Charta answered this time. “I heard a quiet ringing. Came here to answer, caught you singing.”

Ah yes. The rhyming thing. Once upon a time Tea had thought it was interesting. At the moment, it was mocking him. “And you just thought, hey let's record this?” He was getting hotter. He felt sick. He didn't like that he'd been caught. He didn't like that Charta was currently trying to save evidence of his strange habits. It made him feel . . . exposed.

“Twas no impressive performance I'm afraid.” He pocketed the phone, then looked up. “But many a person's day it has made.”

Tea got sicker. “E-excuse me?”

Charta spoke so flatly for someone with such a musical impediment. And the lack of emotion to go along with it only aided in Tea's descent. “Tea the traitor singing so loud is now shared through the Candle Cult cloud.”

Tea's eyes blew wide. “Take it down.” Charta stared flatly. Tea leaned heavily on the counter. “Take it. Down.” Still no response whatsoever. It was infuriating. “Please! It's . . . that's,” he fumbled for a word, “private!”

Charta shook his head. “You're looking for an appeal and are sadly out of luck. Whereas as you have a surplus of them, I cannot give a single fuck.”

Aiden's influence on his temper flew into him as he picked up a kettle of steaming water he had intended for his tea. In the back of his mind, he knew Charta would run if chased and felt justified in his actions with that knowledge. 

However, there was a part of him that also wanted to pour the water on the offending cellular device before drenching the page so much he turned soggy.


	51. Forever is a Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness hits those with extended lifespans at some of the most inconvenient times, even for Victorian vampires and Baby Boomer half skinwalkers.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Gabriel was quiet. He didn’t respond to Tea at all. Tea squinted at the vampire, who sat complacently in front of the fire. He stared at the crackling fireplace blankly, almost completely unaware he had been asked a question. “Gabe?” Tea declared.

When the vampire’s head turned towards him, it was slow and almost pained. Tea winced, feeling a negativity sink into his skin as Gabriel looked at him. “Yes?”

Tea felt himself steadily become consumed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Gabriel didn’t answer. That wasn’t like him. The vampire was polite. The vampire was kind. The vampire was happy to see Tea, happy to share a cup with him, happy to share a book with him. What had happened to him to make him so upset?

And then he received his answer. “I’m just . . . exhausted.”

Tea’s brow furrowed. From what he recalled, vampires didn’t really need rest. Gabriel had lain with Tea before, but more out of enjoying his warmth and not wanting to leave him alone. Not that he actually needed rest. “Have you eaten?” Perhaps he’d missed a meal.

Gabriel nodded. “I do not need anything.” He turned his gaze back to the fire and Tea felt like he had almost been . . . dismissed. Though he received no other answer from the vampire, he felt as though he had been told the conversation was over. But Tea didn’t see it that way. Something ate at him. A familiarity with the condition the vampire was facing.

This led him to sit beside the vampire, who did not react to him at first. He sat unblinking, unfeeling, unseeing. He was completely unaware of the company Tea was providing.

Until the half skinwalker slid a palm into Gabriel’s.

Gabriel went stiff at the warmth, and Tea was flooded with the cultist’s sadness. It was truly a sadness. One so deep seated, so well hidden. It was incredible and baffling and terrifying to behold. It was old, and it was reluctant to be assuaged by Tea’s attempts at soothing it. It would take all of Tea’s energy to even wash away a smidgen of this. Some things Tea just couldn’t fight with empathy alone. Some things were stronger than even the strongest empath.

Tea was pulled from his attempts when Gabriel squeezed his hand back hard. Tea squeezed back also, and felt at the very least relieved when the cultist leaned against him. With Gabriel’s head on his shoulder, he looked down at the small vampire and listened to him take an unnecessary, deep breath. Deciding he needed only ask one more question before he let Gabriel ride out this wave, he cleared his throat. “Want me to stay with you for the rest of today?” Gabriel hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.” Tea relaxed, getting comfortable at the vampire’s side. The vampire said no more, simply leaning into Tea and gripping his hand like it was a link back to reality. Tea did his best to keep his own waves of emotion in check. He cared for Gabriel, saw in him a wonderment he admired the vampire for maintaining.

But Tea knew better than anyone that eternity was a long time to live with the things he’d seen and done.


	52. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had it not been for one forgiving forest guardian, the Candle Cult may have never seen Tea emerge from his room after a month of recovery from what the Puppeteers had done to him.

His resentment had long boiled over, but he still felt it gnawing at him every now and then. It had been a month. A full month since anyone had seen the traitor.

Tea.

Rowan.

The traitor had a name.

And he had a past. One Leland . . . for the life of him he couldn’t ignore.

There was a part of him that wanted to go on hating the other for what he’d done. Fortunately, Nicoli had helped in turning that part of him off. Had it not been turned off, there was no telling what his heartless self would be doing now. But right now, Leland was here. Here and aware of what the other had gone through. There had been pieces. There had been implications.

There had been evidence provided to him in a disgusting mockery of intimate display.

Leland stood outside Tea’s room, hand over his chest as he felt his heart pounding beneath the healing brand. He struggled with the sickness that rose in his throat as he recalled what Liam had done to Tea right in front of him. He had been punished for . . . him. He had been punished by him.

Tea had been punished by everyone.

For . . . existing, it seemed.

Leland’s hand shook. He had learned the other was awake, finally healed and ready to rejoin the world. But . . . it seemed he was not as ready as presumed. No one had seen him since his awakening. No one had seen what had become of him. Leland had seen the questioning looks of those who still felt hurt by the Chandelier’s betrayal. They didn’t know why he, of all people, was here. Here and attempting to open a door he had originally intended to slam shut. But . . . Leland couldn’t. He couldn’t close this door. He couldn’t let it stay closed.

The sapling inside needed him too much.

He needed his Rowan.

Though he had played a part in hurting Leland, he was not at fault. And it simply wasn’t in Leland to let something that had struggled for life die. It wasn’t in him to watch a broken seed suffocate. He couldn’t bear the thought. He wouldn’t allow it. With what little resolve he could muster, he took a deep breath.

And opened the door.

\--

The floor was hard against his side. He could have shifted, but he didn’t . . . he didn’t want to. The lines that now marred his skin itched, but he did not scratch. His head spun, but he did not try to reorient it. His eyes watered, but he did not open them to let the tears spill. His stomach churned, but he did not seek relief. He did not move. He did not breathe. He lay beneath the bed. His bed. It was gigantic. It took up this whole room. This room given specifically to him. It was empty. He had . . . nothing. Nothing but a broken body and an empty dresser.

And this huge bed which covered him easily.

He felt . . . empty. He felt hollow. He felt like he’d been gutted and then . . . he thought about it. He had endured all of those things. All and more. But he couldn’t remember. He could remember nothing prior to the deal with Gemmy. He felt . . . .

He felt the door scraping against the floor as it swung open on squeaky hinges.

Tea stiffened. A familiar terror seeped into his bones and his eyes steadily opened to the width of saucers. Tears streaked down and pooled on the floor and he forced himself not to draw breath as the individual entered the room. Footsteps were light. There was . . . emotion. He could actually sense it.

It was overwhelming.

Tea knew what he’d been told. His masters were dead. The Puppeteers were gone. He was free. He was . . . he was . . . .

He was a traitor. A liar. A spy. A thief and a bastard and a myriad of other things he had been called over the years. A monster. A beast. A rat.

Who would enter the home of a rat and not show the desire to squash it?

The individual was standing behind him by the time Tea drew his first shallow breath. He cringed, curling in the fetal position on the floor as he heard—felt—the other slide down and take a seat just outside his bed. Just within reach. They could reach under the bed. They could touch Tea. They could jerk him from his hiding place. They could hurt him.

Make him pay.

He would deserve it.

He was blinded by tears when a soft voice uttered, “Rowan?” Leland. It was like Tea had taken a kick to the chest from a horse hearing that voice. He didn’t answer. He barely withheld a sob. As if knowing his upset, Leland continued without waiting for him to respond. “Are you well?” Tea still did not answer. No. No, he was not well. He had . . . Leland . . . Tea had . . . .

An involuntary whine rose in his throat, but he squelched it. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling in on himself tighter. He felt his skin stretch, like the scars were just dying to make themselves known in this moment of terror, weakness, and sorrow. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to be forgotten. He wanted to die.

“You don’t deserve to die,” he remembered Tapi telling him. It wasn’t meant to be kind. It wasn’t meant to reassure. It was meant to wound.

Tea’s punishment was life.

“Everyone’s waiting for you out there, Rowan,” Leland declared. Tea’s body ached from lack of use. From healing. From having been under some sort of spell and coma for a whole month. He was so weak. Too weak to respond to Leland just yet. Why did it have to be Leland? More tears gathered under his face, wetting the floor as he shook from the attempts to keep quiet. If he stayed quiet, maybe Leland would give up. Maybe he would leave. “They’re worried about you.”

“Wh-why?” Tea’s tongue betrayed him. He was mortified at the croak of a question. He wanted to swallow it back down. He needed to.

But it was too late. “Because we want to know you’re okay.” As if sensing Tea was shaking his head vehemently against the soaking floor, Leland proceeded with, “Do you think we do not know how they treated you?”

No excuse. That was no excuse for what Tea had done. How . . . how was Leland not exuding rage? He’d been . . . he’d seen . . . .

He’d seen.

“N—”

“Do you think I would hate you after what I saw?” Yes. Yes, Tea did. Aiden had. Rayne had. So, so many had. He was nothing. He was property. He was a rat, he—, “Rowan.” Leland slid down further, his voice clearer behind him. He was lying down to see him. Tea froze, noting the prolonged silence and the slow intake of breath. Leland was taking in his appearance. He could feel the pity. He couldn’t stomach it. It hurt too much. “Look at me please?” Not an order, but a request. One Tea struggled with. “Please?” He . . . he couldn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to roll over. He was stiff and cold and sweating and teary eyed and he couldn’t face Leland. He couldn’t face the one who had seen Liam’s wrath, who he had held down for a brand. Who he had kissed. Who he had held. Who he had felt . . . . Tea’s throat was tight as he fought. He fought so hard to keep still and silent. To not feel everything he had ever felt for the cultist behind him in the span of a few seconds. It would soon be followed by the horrible amount of pain he had caused the other. “Rowan?” His voice was so soft. So soft, and yet it struck Tea so hard he was cracking. He was splintering and he was giving and he was . . . .

He was desperate. “P-please,” Tea whimpered almost inaudibly. The tears that spilled across his floor made it sloppy to speak, but he did so anyway. His tight throat made it impossible not to cry more as he did so, but he did so anyway. “J-just . . . g—,” he choked. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t request that. The thought of losing . . . of Leland leaving . . . .

As Leland responded, he shattered. “I was in a bad place too, Rowan. But my love, I got out of it. Now please,” he paused to draw in a shaky breath of his own, “let me help you out of yours.”

Tea. Broke.

He.

Broke.

There was a gap in his mind between where he was and where he wound up. Where he wound up was wrapped in Leland’s arms with his face buried against a chest he knew to be scarred by him. He sobbed, drenching the other’s shirt as he begged forgiveness not with his voice but with the submissiveness he displayed like this.

Tea longed for the drowning warmth of the guardian, the overwhelming adoration and love he had never received from anyone else. He longed to erase his actions, to undo what he had damaged. He wished he could have lived in a time where Leland’s touch was the only touch he had ever known. The longer he lay in the comfort of the man he had desperately wanted to avoid hurting, the more he realized it was not Leland’s forgiveness he was living without.

It was his own.


	53. Destruction of Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to Cannibalize: Tea has an extremely hot tempered boyfriend who does not take kindly to the half skinwalker having his heart ripped out.

The Reverend had only just gotten his spectacles back to have them broken on his face by a fist. His nose was not spared the pain either, blood bursting from it and filling his mouth and staining his collar. When he gazed up through the shattered lenses and bent frame, he caught the blur of a raven haired human coming at him. He landed hard on the ground and hit his head on a pew.

A rage induced by the shock of the assault filled him as a foot stomped down on his vulnerable gut. After gasping from the loss of wind, he managed a startled but aggressive, “What is the meaning of th—?”

“You like touching things that aren’t yours?” The Reverend’s brow furrowed as he lay prone on the floor, his church finally cleaned after the last spilling of blood. “Bit against your rules, don’t you think?”

The anger in the other’s tone dwarfed his own. He quieted, then listened for more. When more did not come and the human with red eyes turned away to start flipping pews, the Reverend stood and declared, “That is not yours to—.” He ceased when the other sent a pew flying into another, knocking five off kilter and forcing Reverend to jump back in mortification at the destruction of his home. He let out an inhuman noise of upset as he dropped whatever his hands was still clinging to and made fists against his scalp and horns. “Stop!” he demanded.

“Did you stop?!” the human shouted, picking up another pew and throwing it at the Reverend. He dropped to the floor, amazed and infuriated that a human could lift something so long and heavy and with such ease.

He must not be human at all. Or at the very least, no longer human. “What are you speaking of?” What had he done to incur this wrath and what did he have to do to get the man to stop before he broke a stained glass window?

“Bodies are temples, right? Heard that once.” The human stomped past the Reverend, moving towards his pulpit. There, he picked up a small side table. “What gave you the right to defile his?”

Tea. He was referring to the Chandelier. The Reverend knew that was the only explanation.

This was the Puppeteer Aiden.

He smelled of alcohol and he was moving towards the windows.

“Do not!” the Reverend cried, scrambling forward. Aiden raised the table, but paused as the Reverend frantically flailed. “Do not, do not, do not!” Somehow those were the only words he could muster.

“What gave you the right?!”

Answer him. It forced him to stop. It gave him the opportunity to save the windows. “I had no right! None!”

“Exactly!” Aiden held the table aloft but made no other move towards the glass. “So why did you do it?!”

“Rumors. I heard rumors. I was curious.” And he had been sated. His curiosity was sated and he wanted no further involvement. “It—”

“You get what you deserved?”

“No!” The Reverend felt his knees buckling as the table shifted in Aiden’s hands. “Yes! I did!” It had hurt and he had felt ill later. Not from what had happened necessarily, his stomach simply had not adjusted to the blood of the Chandelier who’d fed him.

“You sure about that? You look fine to me!”

“Now I do! Now I—”

“Give me one reason not to destroy your temple.” Red eyes shown, and the Reverend heard the message that was not spoken in full: give him one reason not to destroy the Reverend’s temple the way the Reverend had destroyed Tea’s.

The Reverend was sick now. “It will not happen again. It will not, I swear—”

“You’re damn right!”

Shatter.

The stained glass window shattered.

Glass sprayed and scattered across the floor and Aiden didn’t flinch. Actual tears threatened to spill down the Reverend’s face as rage filled him at the sight of the one broken window. He stared at the blurred image of the human.

But all that escaped his throat was a strangled, “How dare you?”

Aiden moved past him, the human exuding yet more fury as he pointed at the Reverend, “You should know,” he purposefully stepped on each shard, crushing it further as he advanced towards the center aisle where the Reverend stood, “that you can fix a broken body.” Or a broken temple. “But a mind?” He could hear the human snarl in disgust. “Good fucking luck with that.”

Aiden left him with the old lesson: wounds heal, but scars remained. And Aiden had done what he could to scar him for how he had scarred Tea.


	54. A Fancy Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena gets to dress Tea up for a date with Gabriel.

“I’m surprised you have clothing that fits me.”

“I’m surprised you indulged us,” Serena declared.

“We are certainly tormenting you,” Gabriel added.

As a comb was raked through Tea’s hair, he let out a nervous, strained laugh. “You could say that. But honestly,” he made a strange face as the comb got hung on a knot in his hair, “I’ve had worse.”

A fancy evening with Gabriel seemed like more than he had anticipated getting into, in all fairness. He was dressed in a suit stiffer and tighter than anything he’d worn before (even his Halloween masquerade outfit had not been this staunch). His hair was flatter than it had ever been. He was uncomfortable but . . . .

Serena was happy with the appearance of the two.

Gabriel was beaming at him.

He could suffer a tight suit for a while. He loved their facial expressions too much to pass up on them. And Gabriel did look wonderful as well.

“Oh, it’s going to be a lovely night,” Serena declared with enthusiasm only she seemed capable of showing. It was a unique, mellow, innocent brand of enthusiasm. It looked good on her.

“You will not be upset to be left on your own?” Gabriel asked politely.

“Of course not. The two of you getting along so well is so nice. I love it.” She grinned. “Besides, Lola and I will be watching the Netflix.”

“Sounds like fun,” Tea said. He liked his nights in with Lola. Serena was sure to as well.

“Do not get in too much trouble while we are out.”

“Don’t get caught sneaking out with the Chandelier on house arrest, more like,” Tea muttered what was supposed to be a joke.

But Serena showed genuine concern at that. “Will this anger Tapi? Going out for a nice dinner isn’t that bad, is it?”

“It would be my pleasure to anger her by taking a nice gentleman out for tea at a lovely, cult owned establishment. It would simply mean she is jealous.” Tea was about to protest that, but Gabriel held up his hand. “I will take the heat. I think you should have a nice date.”

He flushed purple, then chuckled in slight embarrassment of himself. “Even if all I can do is drink tea.”

“And provide lovely company.”

Tea smiled. These two, though they had met under rather . . . odd terms, somehow managed to make him feel . . . normal. He greatly appreciated that. It was a rarity amongst members of the Candle Cult to be allowed the luxury of feeling normal. Ordinary.

Human.

With a smile, he held out his arm to the vampire and declared, “Shall we?”

The vampire beamed and took his arm. “We shall, good sir,” he said, accent growing thick for quite a bit. As they departed, Tea snickered to himself. “What?”

“It wouldn’t be very well-mannered if I asked you to teach me some of your Victorian slang, would it?”

If Gabriel could flush, Tea was certain he would. “I am afraid not, but,” he patted Tea’s chest affectionately, fingers trailing over one of his lapels affectionately, “I think I can indulge.”

“I’d like that,” Tea said with a smile.


	55. Cacophonous Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicoli was determined for Tea to meet Winston, one way or another.

Crash.

Boom.

Clatter.

Splat.

Slam.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Tea could not conceivably answer that. He did not need to. Nicoli did it for him by shouting through the door he had slammed. “Sorry Tea!”

“Sorry T—,” the ghostly being stomped towards the stairs, past Tea. “You threw him into my room!” When Nicoli didn’t respond anymore, Winston let out a grunt of displeasure. Only after yelling did he turn back to Tea. “Is . . . are you . . . ?” Winston halted his questioning as Tea held up his thumb, affirming he was in fact alright. He sat up slowly, looking down at the painful spot he had landed on. It seemed that in his clumsiness, he’d not only barreled down the stairs to Winston’s room but slammed into a stand full of sheet music and . . . instruments? He wasn’t sure. His head as still kind of spinning from the fall. “Oh God.” Winston drew nearer, and Tea saw that he’d unintentionally crumpled some of his music. “Oh no. Oh dear. Oh Jesus.”

“S-sorry.” This was not what he had had in mind when he had told the bird he would like to meet the ghost he so often talked about and fancied. He had not wanted to go flying down the stairs only to make for one of his . . . not worst, but certainly unfavorable impressions. “I didn’t—”

“Oh thank God,” Winston interrupted, clutching the sheets he had been fretting over. “Nothing’s smudged. Thank you God.” Tea started to interrupt, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, he decided to wait for the other to notice he was not alone after all. Technically he had already noticed and greeted Tea, but he seemed overly concerned about his music. Tea could not blame him. He used to fret over his journals back when he had actually kept them. Winston turned a bewildered look upon Tea, then. His look turned suspicious before he asked, “Why did Nicoli throw you into my room?”

Tea flushed a deep purple. “Um . . .,” got straight to the point, didn’t he? He shrugged honestly. Then he rambled, “He didn’t really throw so much as push. It’s k-kinda hard to push someone so much bigg-ger than you, but he tried. My God, did he try. Um, I just—”

“You’re okay,” Winston quickly cut him off, voice less comforting and more he didn’t want to get stuck listening to Tea prattle. At least, that was what Tea perceived. “Bird does weird shit.”

Tea nodded, mouth unclamping momentarily for him to ask, “Including throw random strangers onto your . . . projects?” He eyed the music and instruments again.

“You’d be surprised how often things get thrown at me.”

For some reason, Tea found that to be . . . utterly humorous. “Same,” he said with a smile.

A smile Winston didn’t return. The cultist’s eyes continued to narrow on the Chandelier. Then something clicked in Winston’s mind and he blurted out, “Is this another one of Nicoli’s attempts to get me to make friends?” Tea’s mouth opened, but he didn’t have the chance to answer before Winston was flinging the sheet music into the air again with a frustrated growl. “Nicoli!” Winston shouted up at the door again. “That door better not be locked!”

And just like that, there was a click and a latching sound followed by the declaration, “It is now!”

“Dammit!” Winston shouted. Tea scratched his head, still sitting awkwardly on the floor as the ghost started gathering up what had been scattered. He grumbled the whole time, “Shouldn’t have said that. Should have kept my mouth shut.” All the while, Tea remained still and watched him. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Winston was very much a mystery to him still. The notes he had gathered on him ages ago had all been largely guesswork and disproven, as he had been unable to really approach the other.

Now he was stuck in the room with him. Winston’s room. And he hurt from the fall, and the other was upset at the intrusion. He couldn’t say he blamed him, but since they were stuck together . . . he wondered if it was alright . . . if they talked. “S-so . . . do you need any . . . help?”

Winston stopped mid-gripe, as if once again realizing in surprise he was no longer alone. After an awkward pause that involved staring with his mouth agape and his eyes narrowed behind spectacles, Winston said, “Ah, no. I don’t . . . I don’t need. Anything. Nope.” Tea nodded, utterly rejected. Scooting back, he decided to sit at the bottom of the stairs until they were released from this awkward exchange. However long that would take.

It shouldn’t have stung or surprised him so much that Winston didn’t particularly seem interested in talking. In fact, he would probably get over it as soon as he returned to people who actually were interested in hearing what he had to say. Still . . . he’d been sort of . . . wanting to get to know the cultist Nicoli and others thought so fondly of. He wished he’d met him under better circumstances than falling on his music in his private space.

Winston cleared his throat, and Tea looked up. He felt like the other had just spoken to him. And yet he hadn’t heard. “Huh?” he asked lamely.

The cultist’s expression was nonchalant. “So you sing?”

Tea was taken aback by the question, then remembered Charta’s stunt. That video of him singing was still up and available. And Winston had seen it. He turned a deeper purple. “N-no,” he lied.

Winston snorted, like he knew the lie. “Your voice isn’t bad. Just needs training. You breathe like a walrus.”

Tea was even more stunned at the assessment. One he . . . really hadn’t expected. “I d—what?”

“We’ve got a while before the bird let’s us out.” Winston shrugged. “And . . . from what I’ve heard . . . you’re not that bad. So,” he had his own form of a blush on his cheeks strangely enough, “mind discussing something we both seem to like?”

Tea stared, perhaps rudely. Then he shook his head, quickly asking, “You l-like? My voice?” It was such a strange concept to him.

“You don’t suck.” Well, he liked Winston’s honesty. He could get used to it in time. “Like I said. Needs training.”

“I . . . don’t know what you mean by . . . training.”

“Vocal training. Can you read music?” Tea shook his head. “Well, you’re in luck I guess. Ready for a free first timer’s lesson?”

He wasn’t sure if he was. But as Winston gestured for him to come sit with him, he didn’t argue. He listened to the other instruct him, staring at what started off as gibberish in his eyes before slowly developing into a language all its own. Tea tilted his head and watched Winston as he listened.

And found that Winston’s eyes were glistening with delight.

Though this definitely wasn’t how he had anticipated meeting him, he liked that the other was willing to at least try and share something like music with him. Especially since he was notoriously passionate on the subject.

By the time Nicoli unlocked the door again, they were already deep enough in conversation that they didn’t really notice. They continued talking all the same as if nothing strange had transpired between the two at all.


	56. Twisted Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea has vivid nightmares of his heartless self at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How far have I fallen that Tea has a non-con relationship with himself?

“How much is that puppy in the window?”

“Leave off.”

“Awww, why so shy?”

“Stop.”

“It's not like I haven't seen you naked.”

“You're disgusting.”

“And you,” his heartless self gripped him by the jaw and forced him to look him in the eye, “have been ignoring me for quite long enough.”

Tea jerked his head out of the other Tea's hand, but soon found his face being cupped in two hands as two others held him down by the wrists. “N—!” The heartless Tea's lips mashed into his and Tea growled against the kiss. It was sloppy and claiming, and so utterly empty that Tea was ill from the familiarity. Instead, he bit heartless Tea's lip and snapped his jaws as blood spilled into his mouth. “ I said leave off!”

Heartless Tea grinned, the expression splitting his face. Tea saw just how horrifying he could be in that one expression. “Looks like someone finally,” a hand left his face and Tea gasped and arched as a hand groped him, “grew a set!”

He knew from experience fighting was a mistake. He also knew he could match the other's insanity.

It would be a long night of struggle.


	57. Puppy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden and Tea argue a bit over what Tea is exactly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No I’m not,” Tea declared adamantly as he leaned his back against Aiden.

“Yeah you are,” Aiden retorted as his arms and legs framed the taller.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” One of Aiden’s hands slid up the side of Tea’s neck before fingers threaded through golden hair. Scratching lightly at Tea’s scalp, Tea’s eyes fluttered shut. A groan loosed from his lips and his head dropped back against Aiden’s shoulder. He could feel Aiden smile against his temple, feel him breathe out a small chuckle. “See, kid? Puppy.”

The groan turned into a growl and the scratching went from relaxing to irritating. “I’m not a puppy.” Everyone liked to have their head scratched. It was a simple fact of nature.

“Really?” Aiden’s hand slid forward on Tea’s head, his finger coming to trace the bridge of Tea’s nose. It moved up and down, back and forth, slowly and reassuringly. Tea went completely limp and resumed his groaning, irritation forgotten in the wake of his newfound tiredness. “Kid,” Aiden whispered. Tea grunted. “Kid, I got some bad news for you.” Tea grunted again, and Aiden whispered, “You’re a puppy.”

“You’re a . . . tomato.”

Aiden chuckled again and Tea imagined the redness of his face. “Sugarplum.” Then Aiden snorted and whispered teasingly, “Sugarplum puppy princess.”

Tea’s groaning returned, this time louder. He stretched against Aiden in agitation as he grunted again. “Cherry tomato . . . bird . . . butt.”

“Where’d you learn to insult, kid?” Aiden asked.

Tea opened his eyes slightly and glared at Aiden. “I’m looking at him.”

Aiden frowned. “I’m more creative than that.”

“Nope.”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

“Yeah.”

Aiden resumed his stroking of the bridge of Tea’s nose. “No.”

Tea relaxed and smiled at the redness of his lover’s face, neck, and ears. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”


	58. A Single Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya has a fear that Tea helps her deal with.

The sound of a horse dancing nervously was not wholly unfamiliar to Tea. Usually that sound was not coupled with equally nervous feminine humming. Tea sought out the source in the home’s forge, and was surprised to find that Amaya was not working but sidestepping around something nervously. Her eyes were locked on it, and she was trembling. Her whole body was trembling. “Amaya what’s--?”

The centaur looking up, tail whipping at the sight of him as she cut him off with a clipped, “Get it!”

Tea’s eyes narrowed on the offending object and he worried it was actually a spider. He drew near with shaking hands, but straightened up when he discovered that it wasn’t an insect at all.

It was half of a broken pair of shackles.

Quickly scooping the piece up in both hands, he looked up. “What should I--?”

“I don’t care, just make it go away.” There were tears in her eyes and her panic was starting to sink into his system. He went to the forge, thinking maybe he could bury it in coals. “Not there!” she cried. He froze, then turned away with a greater sense of confusion. “Out! Just get it out!”

With that, he ran outdoors. He didn’t stop until he chucked it into the lake. Whatever creatures resided there, he hoped he didn’t upset them. He just desperately needed to help his friend. Turning back around, he stopped to take a deep breath before marching back in.

He found Amaya again and before he could ask how the shackle had gotten there, he ceased and closed his mouth. She had taken to lying on the floor, arms wrapped around herself as she hunched. Her massive form was still trembling, and her eyes were staring into dead space. Stiffening, he had to make himself draw nearer to her. Her panic was overwhelming, but he couldn’t leave her like this. She was hurting, and he couldn’t let her continue to hurt. Not when he was capable of doing something about it.

Settling on his knees before her, he tentatively smoothed his hands over her forearms. She tensed at first, eyes then locking on him with a ferocity and terror he knew intimately. When she seemed to loosen up enough that she acknowledged who it was she had sitting before her, she looked down again and allowed him to pull her down into a hug. With this much physical contact, he shushed her and let his own energy slip into her through the touch. She was receptive, relaxing upon his attempt to soothe her.

He hummed a tune he’d picked up from Aren and she melted into the hug. Melted and wept. Rubbing her back, he let her arms squeeze him in a bid to regain control of herself. He didn’t need to know why the sight of shackles did this to her. He could probably guess.

There was a hurt in her he couldn’t reach to soothe. He would settle for at least holding and calming her surface. The storm inside her she needed to tame herself. But, “I’m here, alright? As long as you need me.”

She nodded against him, shivering violently in his hold. He didn’t let go though. Not until they were both sure she was ready.


	59. A Break for Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was Tapi drinking with him in the first place? The world may never know.

She sipped from the cup. “I hate this shit.” She took another sip. “Like, really. It’s shit.” Another sip. “You’ve tasted shit, right? Yeah you have. Because you’re drinking this.” She finished the cup. “Why the fuck am I drinking with you?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe because she had run off the rest of the Chandeliers? Things were tense of late. And leave it to Tea to be the only one who isn’t willing to turn down a visit from the fearless leader.

“Because you’re a wimp, that’s why.” Tea rolled his eyes. He didn’t glorify that with a response. He simply drank from his mug of Irish Breakfast and considered his living situation. He watched as she poured another cup of the alleged ‘shit’ and proceeded to continue drinking.

It was then he declared, “You could add sugar, you know. Or creamer.”

“Don’t be a smartass, I know how to drink tea.” She just hated it. She seemed to hate all things Tea most days. This made him question things further, but he did not say anything aloud. “It’s just been a while.” For a moment, he almost caught onto a gray tint in her blue eyes. As soon as he saw it, it was gone. And she was back to glaring at him. “So how goes the eventful life of a traitor?”

He sighed. It was inevitable that he’d hear that jibe. “Not as eventful as it once was.” Not that he was complaining. It was . . . the longest vacation he’d ever had. From . . . everything he’d ever known, really. “Paperwork’s a load—”

“No bitching. No one wants to hear it.”

He . . . wasn’t? “I actually—”

“Ah ah!”

“—like it.”

She stopped, staring up at him incredulously. She almost seemed . . . expressionless. Void of feeling, if only for a moment. “You are,” he waited for the insult, holding his breath just in case smoke came along with it, “such a nerd.”

Tea did a double take, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed at Tapi. A nerd? Him? What . . . what the hell? He knew what a nerd was (aside from a candy he’d never eat), but had never been called one.

And before he could stop himself, he remarked, “Says the same woman who wears her sunglasses at night.”

Another blank stare. Then she tilted her cup and head in his direction. “Touche.”

Tea had not expected to survive that moment, and so tested his luck no further. When asked a question, he was pleasant. When quipped at, he quipped back lightly.

For a moment, he forgot that this was the same woman who had threatened to destroy him once upon a time.

But, of course, there was still time.


	60. English Teatime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea's visits with Jack Edwards tend to end up in a one-upping contest, but Tea thinks after meeting Lilith Jack wins this round.

“How’s Jack Number Two today?” Tea shook his head at the question, which led to Jack immediately pouring him a glass of Captain Morgan’s Long Island Iced Tea. “Are you married to Satan yet?”

“No.”

“Then what’s so terrible about your life?”

Tea pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can I get some water with this? Bit dehydrated.”

Jack let out a sarcastic gasp. “Tea drinking something other than tea? The scandal!”

“It’s been a rough . . . month. Alright?”

“Why, what happened? Get your dick ripped off?”

“No.”

“Gutting?”

“Not this time.”

“Exsanguinated? Beheaded? Quartered?”

“No, no, and no. Have you really--?”

“What’s wrong with you, Jack Two? Don’t be shy.”

“I’m not . . . telling,” Tea declared, a purple fluster appearing on his cheeks and neck.

“You don’t have to. I got the pictures to prove it.” Tea scoffed at his bartending companion. “Wanna see?”

Tea turned even more purple. “You don’t actually--”

“Tapi’s a wonderful photographer.” Tea felt the blood drain from his face as Jack then added, “I didn’t realize persons such as yourself went into season. You got a little demon in you, or is it something else?”

Tea was mortified, but unable to answer as a pop like the air being disrupted went off behind Jack Edwards and a small, blood red hand slid over the man’s shoulder before stroking his neck. “The devil loves a liar, squish,” came a high, sweet voice from over the Jack’s shoulder.

The bartender sighed, then muttered, “I was only lying a little!”

A red woman with barely visible horns poking from her forehead came to stand at Jack’s side. She leaned on his shoulder with her arms, staring up at him intently. “You don’t have any pictures, do you?”

“Not on me!” Which implied he did have . . . something. Tea was utterly mortified, frozen in place as he watched the couple. They were a . . . couple . . . right?

Was this the devil wife Jack so often griped about?

She turned to Tea, her pitch black eyes (and single amber iris) staring straight through him. “Aw look, you’ve embarrassed your dear friend!” She patted Jack’s chest lightly. “Shame on you.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. Right Jack Number Two?” Jack gave him a meaningful glance of encouragement, which coupled terrifyingly well with her analytical stare as she assessed Tea’s reaction.

“I . . . it’s . . . fine.” The pressure from the two was tangible enough he had to lean back in his seat. Taking a slow sip from his drink, he wanted nothing more than to duck under the bar and hide.

The woman hummed quietly. “Alright.” Then she glanced up at Jack’s face and stage whispered, “I won’t punish you too hard then.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Thank Heaven for small favors,” he remarked caustically with a small tilt of his head.

She slid off Jack’s shoulder, walking between them before coming out from behind the bar to stand next to Tea. She kept her eyes fixed on him, studying him it seemed. It made sweat gather at his temple. “So Jack Number Two?” she asked.

“Oh, he can’t die either. Therefore he’s Jack Two.”

Tea felt even more awkward being talked about while she stared directly at him. “I’m afraid you’re lying again, sweetie. He can still die.”

And that statement just made the situation even worse. “Well, we haven’t found out how yet.”

“Aw, that’s good.” She placed her fingertips on Tea’s neck and the half skinwalker jumped slightly at the almost electric feel of her energy. “For you, at least,” she said to him. Her hand dropped. “You’re quite cute.”

“Hey now!” Jack snapped a little too loudly. 

“Oh don’t worry,” she said with a sharp smile as she smacked Jack’s hand. “He’s just going to Hell soon!”

It was then that Tea finally cried out, “Excuse me!”

She turned back to him with a playful grin and a small giggle. “You’ll have fun, I promise!” Tea was flustering again, and having her pat his cheek and coo, “You blush like a plum.”

Jack then added. “You should see his bruises.” The woman’s eyes glinted. “That’s not an invitation!” Her grin widened and Tea was sweating even more. “Lily no!”

She was about to turn and say something when out of nowhere, another customer walked up.

And slapped her across her ass.

“Nice six pack, darling,” the man declared as he sat.

The looks of mortification that passed over Jack’s and Tea’s faces were nothing in comparison to the hellishly sweet expression that appeared on Lily’s. Wide eyes. Small, lineless smile. Locked jaw.

Jack didn’t really need to tell Tea, “Get behind the bar.” Tea was already feeling the shift from sadistic mirth to absolute fury in the air. He moved quickly as Lily turned towards the perpetrator (future victim) slowly.

As Tea and Jack sank behind the bar, she whispered in mock seduction to the man, “So you like six packs?”

“Don’t answer,” Jack murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Tea to hear.

But the man did. “Yeah I do.”

“Oh my God,” Jack muttered.

Lily hummed. “So you’d appreciate having one yourself?”

There was a sound, like the man smacked his pudgy belly. “Not gonna happen, toots.”

“Fuck.” Jack closed his eyes and bit his lip in sympathy for the man as Tea shivered at the rage that culminated.

“Well, it’s your lucky day.”

Cutting.

Ripping.

Wet, disgusting sounds.

Blood sprayed the bottles on the wall before Jack and Tea and Tea jumped. Jack whispered, “You’ll help me clean this up, right?”

And Tea was starting to wish he’d grabbed his drink so he could chug it. At this point, he’d settle for the bottle.


	61. Let's Do Something Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea is woken up from a power nap by Lola, Aren, and Mari looking for entertainment.

“Just for the sake of argument, how many people are on top of me right now?” This was not as uncommon an occurrence as perhaps Tea wished it was, but far be it from him to complain about. Usually the people flopping around on him were benevolent these days. With the tea bag in his mouth as he was lying on the couch, he peaked open one eye and sighed as he counted. Lola was at his head, ears drooping over his face. Aren was lying across his stomach, legs tangling with Tea’s. With these two he felt alright. It was pretty common for him to nap with them around. It was the little giggler sitting on Aren’s shoulders that was a surprise. “When’d you start hanging out with the wrong crowd, Mari?”

Her only answer was to stick her tongue out at him. “Don’t be a baby!”

Tea’s brow furrowed. “You’re a . . . permanent baby.”

Then Lola patted his forehead and shushed Mari before she could retort. “We were just checking on you. You don’t sleep on the couch much anymore,” she explained.

Tea sighed, hand almost immediately threading through Aren’s hair as his talons lightly scratched his scalp. Aren hummed and closed his eyes at the feeling as Tea answered, “Just taking a powernap.” He was going to need it if he was going to get anything done. “I should probably get up.”

Mari made a disgruntled noise with her mouth. “Boring! We should do something fun.”

“Define fun,” Tea murmured as he closed his eyes and listened to the three talk.

“Watch a movie,” Lola answered.

“Go for a walk,” Aren suggested.

“Steal something!” Mari declared with her fists in the air.

“How about set up a shelf in the library and reorganize all the books that got pulled off of it?”

The simultaneous groan out of all three of them was almost comical. “Yeah . . . about that,” Lola began, “I knew the boggart who did that, and their brother is already on it.”

“Where’s the boggart now?” Tea asked. At least it wasn’t Sinny. He was already on Tapi’s list of people to snuff.

“Trap,” was Lola’s only explanation. Her ears stood on end. “Oh shit, I forgot!” Tea’s head was lifted off her lap and promptly dropped on the couch as she bounded off in whatever direction towards whatever she had forgotten. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask what that was about.

Glancing up and Aren and Mari, he sighed. “Guess the choice is yours. What do you two wanna do?”

Their answers were the same: go for a walk and steal something. So they went with the next best thing: walking through the manor and looking for things to ‘steal.’ It was Aren’s and Mari’s job to go in a room and move an object and Tea’s job to determine which object had been moved. He both got to give them attention (which he thoroughly enjoyed doing) and ensure things had stayed neat and in order in each room. Lola didn’t join them again, but he hoped she was alright with whatever she was doing.

Later as they took a break and sat with a mug of tea each, Aren leaned against him and nuzzled his neck. Tea purred and scratched his head again while Mari sat curled up on Aren’s lap. Tea smiled, making the observation that the two were adorable together.

Aren’s own shy smile told him that he was glad Tea approved.


	62. Crocheting Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya teaches Tea how to crochet.

“Hold the needle like this.”

“Is this right?”

“Not . . . really. Here, try it this way.”

“Um . . . .”

“Actually,” the needle was pulled from his hand entirely. “Try this.”

The loops deviated from being too loose to being too tight up until she showed him how to crochet a line with his claws. His brow had started out furrowed in frustration, but steadily smoothed out as he continued an almost perfect crocheted line of loops. He smiled, fangs clearly seen as he gave her his most triumphant expression. “I guess these things are good for something,” he declared, referring to his talons.

Amaya looked over Tea’s handiwork and grinned herself. “See? You’re not all destruction and mayhem dear.”

After spending a considerable amount of time stressed out to the point he was knocking things over as opposed to repairing them like he should be doing, hearing that was incredibly reassuring. “Sometimes,” he said as he continued making his loops, “I wonder. If that’s all I have to offer, really.” Just like that, his brow was furrowing again. His loops looked good now that he was using his claws and not the needle, but now he was thinking back on all the things he couldn’t fix.

So many loops made too tight or too loose.

So many mistakes.

His line of crochet was far from perfect now that he thought about it.

“Don’t pinch your face like that,” Amaya told him as she knitted something decades better than whatever it was he was working on. “You’re destressing, not making a scarf love.”

He hummed. “But it’s still . . . not how I want it to be.”

“Then pull the end and start over. There’s no rule saying you can’t.”

Tea hummed. “I wish it were that simple sometimes . . . .”

Amaya grew quiet as he paused and picked up the string that would unravel all he’d created thus far. As he slowly pulled it, he could see all the strands his needle and claws had left holes in or separated. He could see even more mistakes. He sighed. There was something disappointing in seeing something he’d worked on unraveled and left in more tatters than it had been previously.

As he stared at the yarn, he was caught off guard when Amaya leaned forward with a pair of scissors and snipped and pulled the tattered strand from his fingers. “Start fresh, dear. New string, new project.” New life, he thought. Everything was new. As she handed him a fresh ball of yarn, she dropped his tattered strand on the floor.

And seemingly out of nowhere a fuzzy hand slid from under a moving pile of fabric and pulled the yarn under. Amaya and Tea snorted. “Seda is good at cleanup,” Tea remarked.

Amaya beamed. “She really is.” And it just goes to show that the thread someone threw away might not work for that someone, but it could do well for another. Tea smiled as he started over with the new ball of yarn.

He appreciated his new loops much more.


	63. One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Tea would give to see his friend just one more time.

"Dawn?" No answer. "Dawn?" Silence. "Dawn, please let me in." Her mind was closed to him, as it often was. Ever since he had started trying, the door had been closed to him. He had flickers of what were supposed to be memories of his time with her.

They were getting harder to recall, but he never lost the desire to return to her.

His mind connecting to hers had taken the form of an iron, gigantic, cemetery gate. Beyond the gate, he saw the forest. Their forest. The gate was padlocked, and no amount of shifting could get him through it.

He let himself slip into a form more tended to her. He became Rowan, her lover. "My Dawn, please." Still she did not answer. "Please love. I know you're hurting." His eyes watered. "I can feel it." Rowan reached through the bars, but his hand recoiled at the magic keeping them separated.

As tears spilled, he withdrew his hand and pressed his now much smaller forehead to the bars. Closing his eyes, he was now Rowan the child.

And he couldn't stop crying.

He hated himself every time he broke like this. He felt like he was guilting her. But if . . . if she truly wanted and needed him . . . he wouldn't be waiting outside this gate, would he? She simply couldn't want or need him anymore.

Which wasn't fair.

He still wanted and needed her.

"D-Dawn," he murmured through tears as he slid to the ground and put his back to the gate. He choked, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. "I . . . I," didn't know what to say anymore. So he went with the truth. "I love you. Still d-do." He swiped at his face. "I'm h-here. Pl-please . . . even if I'm n-n-not the one you want . . . I'll st-still be here." He would grow up. He would wake up. He would live on without her. But . . ., "I'll always be y-yours." In a way, she would always have a piece of him. Maybe not all of him. But she certainly had a sizable chunk. One he couldn't have gone on living without.

Out of vain hope, he stayed by the gate. He stayed even when Gemmy appeared in wolf form to collect him. He stayed until he awoke and vanished.

And when he did, she appeared. She slid from the trees and pressed herself against the gate. With tears in her eyes, she murmured, "I love you too."

But neither Rowan nor Tea heard it.


	64. Best Served Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some forms of revenge are best served hot and intimately.
> 
> (Reverend continues to pay for his actions in the story Cannibalize)

The dream was so real. He was almost sad he woke up. And glad.

Because he didn’t think he could wash up that much blood in his beloved church.

He was back underneath Tea, who was heartless and straddling him. He had three eyes. Three, glowing eyes. Strangely, it wasn’t his voice coming from his mouth. No, it was a gravelly, rough voice. It sent chills of every kind shooting across his skin.

The Reverend was unharmed for the most part, and a second pair of hands was pinning his wrists to the church floor. He was growling, glaring up with eyes clear and glasses shattered beside his head. He could see the massive grin splitting the giant’s face, black blood oozing from his chest and staining his shirt. This four armed, three eyed incarnation of Tea was not the gentle giant the cult seemed to unanimously adore at times. This was a mockery of the man. This was a mockery of the real heartless Tea.

Things continued to get stranger when a long earwig’s tail raised behind Tea’s back, its pincers clicking repeatedly and loudly. “Did you miss this Reverend?” the dream Tea asked. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I am going to need you to let go,” the demonic minister snarled. He didn’t much like his dreams being invaded by this . . . thing. Whatever it was. It was certainly stealing the face of the giant he had . . . well, violated.

It laughed. It was an insidious, full bellied laugh that resonated through his church. “That’s adorable.” It almost sounded like a smoker. It was intriguing, but at the same time unsettling. “I don’t feel like it.”

“I do not particularly care what you feel like. I demand to be released.”

Its answer was clear. “No.” The pincers stretched over the giant’s shoulder and out of nowhere dug into the Reverend’s stomach. The faded buzz of being torn into within a dream seemed much more real than was typical. He was actually screaming, but he heard no sound but the thing’s laugh. The fake Tea’s laugh. It shook and vibrated down the length of the tail which sliced and cut, pinching his skin open. It started just below his navel and continued cutting and pinching upward. Blood gushed out in a noise that sounded like squelching and sponging, his flesh ripping. He felt a gurgle in his throat and soon was coughing blood. He coughed out, spitting onto the fraud’s face. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at that typically gentle face. The grin grew impossibly wider. “How touching,” he murmured as a serious of multiple, thin tongues slid past lips to lap up the blood on that pale face.

When the pincers receded, they were dripping in the Reverend’s blood. As was his body. His body overran with blood, producing enough blood to sustain at least ten men. It poured forth from his body, covering the church floor. It stained the legs of the pews and sloshed under their bodies. He heard the sound of the flow each time he shifted his legs, each time Tea shifted his weight on him. If his sight and the appearance of Tea had not clued him in that this was a nightmare, the blood certainly had.

The fraud’s second pair of hands undid his trousers. What came forth was . . . it was not of this realm, he could tell. It was a member, honey yellow and slick. It was tentacular, and had several smaller strands that twisted and shifted around it. It lubricated itself and it slid in deep and nestled into the Reverend’s sliced open innards. Tears brimmed and fell down his face, pooling at the corners of his eyes. The agony . . . it was real. It was incredibly real. The member twisted inside of his torn open stomach, almost numbing in its movements against severed and frayed nerves. More blood swished and flowed from his body, tainted with this honey-like substance which further lubricated his insides. He gasped and groaned and yelped, all the while the creature straddling him laughed.

When he finally woke up, he could still hear it laughing.

And he tasted blood.

Sitting up, the Reverend picked up his glasses off the side table with shaking hands. He placed them on his face and stared out. Looking down at his hands, he noted the sheen of cold sweat that coated his body. How . . . unnatural. It felt unnatural. That was all he addressed, however.

He didn’t feel like addressing the throbbing need in his trousers just yet.


	65. A Blend of Mints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea garners plenty of enjoyment from sharing mint tea with Jonathan.

“I have somehow found the perfect combination of teas to make it taste like you just brushed your teeth.”

“So it’s minty?”

“Very minty. Better to drink it cold.”

“Perfect.” In one fluid motion John downed the glass of iced tea Tea had handed him. Putting it down, he licked his lips and gave an obnoxious, “Ah!” sound as he savored the flavor and freshness. And it was most certainly fresh. “God, you gotta get in on this flavor.”

Tea snorted and shook his head, holding his own cup of lemon ginger. “I think I’ll pass.”

John quirked an eyebrow at him. “You do brush your teeth, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t swallow the toothpaste.” And he couldn’t drink mint tea, an unfortunate case John had often argued was the saddest part of knowing Tea.

“Maybe just,” he picked up the pitcher Tea had made for him alone, “swish it around your mouth a bit. Feel the clean,” John drawled, sounding very much like a commercial for the substance.

Tea laughed at him. “No, I’m good.” He flushed a light purple, enjoying the playfulness of the other.

But John was determined. He was going to find a way to get some of this flavor into Tea. “I got a better idea,” he murmured. Tea watched as John picked up the pitcher, took a few gulps, then held some in his mouth to gargle. Tea’s brow furrowed as he watched this display.

When John came around the table to stand before Tea, Tea asked, “What are you doing?”

Just after swallowing the gulp of mint tea he’d used to rinse his mouth, John whispered, “Kissing you.” Before Tea could say anything else, the fresh breath of the other had gone from just blowing across his face to mixing in with his own. John’s lips pressed to his, Tea opened his mouth and allowed the other cultist’s tongue to slide against his. He let out an involuntary moan, then clutched at John’s waist for balance. He wasn’t sure what had happened to his cup of lemon ginger until he felt the warm tea pooling around his bare feet. That was . . . he’ll clean it up in a minute. For now, he was getting a taste of mint that most certainly was neither the blood nor just the lips of the other. When John pulled away, he left just a hairsbreadth of space between Tea’s lips and his before whispering, “Tastes good, huh?”

Tea was in a daze, eyes closed and heavily leaning on the other tall male. He hummed for a bit, the taste of the mint tea very present on his tongue. He licked his lips, then whispered a soft “Uh huh.”

Only for John to chuckle. “You okay there sugarplum?”

Tea opened his eyes slightly, but couldn’t even manage a glower at the lower ranked cultist. “You just kissed me.”

“It isn’t the first time we’ve kissed,” John declared.

While sober, it was. Or with a heart. “Still . . . .”

“You’re face is so purple, it’s adorable.”

And John showed no hint of embarrassment whatsoever. Not that Tea was necessarily embarrassed he just wasn’t really used to . . . this. Whatever this was. Gritting his teeth, Tea murmured, “Your cheeks were pretty colorful too if I remember that night right.”

And they were coloring now at the mention of their one night stand while Tea was high. Tea couldn’t help the grin that crossed his lips as John muttered, “Do my ears deceive me or is Sweet Tea flirting with me?”

The Chandelier snorted once more. “You were going to rub off on me eventually.”

John hummed. “Wonderful.”

Then his lips were on Tea’s again.


	66. Fire or Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charta is having a crisis and Tea shows up in the nick of time.

“Help!” Forget the rhymes. Forget the verses. Forget everything that involved proper speech for Charta. “Help!” he shouted.

There was only one thing that could make him panic like this: fire.

And he was surrounded.

Charta quivered in the middle of the room. One candle was fine. One candle he could avoid easily. Even two candles. Or five. Or ten. He could leave the room at least if he were that uncomfortable.

But fifty candles? Fifty flames? Sconces everywhere, even on the door? This made no sense. No sense at all. He’d dozed off thinking on something he had devoured recently, and the next thing he knew there were flames everywhere in the room. Preventing him from moving. Preventing him from leaving.

He was being tricked.

He was being pranked.

Where was the man they called Ashton Kutcher, the one meant to hop out when a television show was pranking someone? Where was he? Where was he to save Charta from this fiery hell?

He had tried calling for help, but no one was coming. He sat utterly frozen, eyes wide and trembling as he stared at the multitude of candles and flames just hovering a short distance from his person. Don’t pout blow them out, said the logical voice in his head. Don’t pout blow them out. Don’t pout blow them out.

Don’t pout.

Blow them out.

Don’t pout.

Blow them . . . .

He panicked. He panicked and launched for the door. He knocked some over and screeched in the process, thankful the floor was stone. Yanking the door open, he bolted.

Only to smell smoke as his coat tail burned.

Charta screamed, jerking his limbs from the coat and throwing it on the floor only for his foot to catch fire as he was stomping on the tail. He screamed even louder, his shoe melting and overheated around his foot. He couldn’t stop screaming. He couldn’t stop the fire. He was soon to be engulfed. He was soon to be a mound of ash. The room where he had been sleeping would go up in flames and he would be no more, just a smoky memory.

He was in tears when suddenly he was being doused with water. Very hot water.

Very hot leaf water.

Shivering, he looked up at the overturned mugs above his head before he eyed the Chandelier holding them. Tea looked disinterested but . . . Charta wasn’t on fire anymore.

And his speech was probably going to slur terribly from the amount of water the taller had dumped on him. “Take it the boggarts got you good.” Charta tilted his head, eyes still teary as the dampness grew overwhelmingly uncomfortable. “We have someone going around pranking the cultists. Looks like they got you.” Tea walked past Charta, heading from whence the living page had come. “You’re not dumb enough to catch fire on your own, at least.”

If not for the water dripping from his being and the upset of his near death experience, Charta might have thrown a stronger punch. As such, he was only able to land a wet mark on Tea’s back. The giant didn’t stumble or stop at all and Charta just knew this was Tea’s revenge for all the videos Charta had posted of the Chandelier singing.

Fortunately Tea had not yet learned there had been more than one video, but he would soon find out.


	67. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea didn't fear the dark anymore thanks to one particular shade walker.

Tea could remember a time when the dark was mystifying and taunting. It wanted him to come and play, run, hunt. It wanted him to open up and experience life.

The dark became scary when he was told it would make him a monster. It became scarier when he realized that even though he was the one who was supposed to be a monster, he was surrounded by them. Defenseless.

In the dark.

He held Aren’s hands, thinking of the dark the other had brought him into. The dark he had grown accustomed to. Shadows surrounded them as they lay on Aren’s bed, and he could hear the legs of the spiders that hid in the shade walker’s room. Bless Aren, he tried so hard to keep them hidden from him and yet Tea knew they were there. He managed to ignore them. They didn’t show themselves to him, and they didn’t touch him. For that he was grateful.

For Aren he was grateful.

Tea’s eyes reflected in the dark, watching the sleeping figure before him. His hands swallowed the palms of the smaller, engulfing them in his warmth. They both had trouble sleeping sometimes. Tea only slept well with two people now.

Aren sighed in his sleep and Tea listened intently. He counted the breaths, watched his chest rise and fall. He felt the other’s legs tangle with his and resisted the urge to squeeze his legs tighter and trap Aren there. Keep him from being taken from him.

Keep the dark from stealing him.

But if Aren had proven anything to him, it was that the dark was not as terrifying as he had been led to believe. “Your eyes say that they want to be in the dark,” Aren had told him before falling asleep, his hands framing Tea’s face. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to see them right now.” Tea often forgot they reflected in the dark until it was pointed out to him. He never put much thought on just how he was able to see just as clearly at night as in the day. He had always simply accepted it. It was a fact of his being.

But he hadn’t thought of belonging to the dark until his love who thrived in the dark had pointed it out.

Tea had pulled Aren’s hands from his face to hold them (and was holding them still). He kissed each finger, then declared forlornly, “My teeth say they want meat too.” And yet he couldn’t stomach a single bite of anything.

Aren had hummed. “I would listen to your eyes and teeth before listening to the things telling you not to indulge.” He pondered for a moment before adding, “I’m not sure indulge is the word but . . . you understand, right?”

Tea had nodded. “I guess so.”

The shade walker had drifted off then, and Tea lay staring at him. He thought of his words and their meaning, watching and counting the breaths of the smaller. His teeth ached often. He resolved this by chewing on the bones Pen gave him, but there was always the dull demand of something more. He saw clearly at night, and yet he didn’t go out when the dark beckoned to him. It beckoned often.

His heart felt though. It always felt.

And he listened. He listened when it told him to love and trust Aren.

Tea kissed Aren’s fingers one by one again, and purred as the smaller sighed in his sleep.

There was a reason Tea didn’t fear the dark anymore.


	68. Milk Tea and Sound Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This newer, more open version of Tea is fascinating and wonderful to Jinx.

Jinx sat under Tea’s arm with a mug of milk tea in his hands. He rested his head on the taller’s chest and grinned as he listened to the quiet sips the Chandelier made as he drank his tea without waiting for it to cool. Nestling in the skinwalker’s hold, he sighed and let his ears droop against the broad shoulder that was his pillow.

An elbow rested on Tea’s arm, skin brushing skin as the limb circled Jinx’s chest. Jinx openly admitted, “You’re not wearing long sleeves as often as you used to.” Or his coat. Not the old one, the one with the high collar, but the newer one the cult had given him. Tea just tended not to cover up anymore.

Jinx liked it.

“Yeah, got kinda hot for some reason.” He spoke so nonchalantly. It was . . . really nice.

It was like he had never even been conditioned into wearing long sleeves and gloves year round.

When Jinx had learned that was Tea’s reason for covering up as much as he used to, he was saddened. Now he was taking a warmed palm off his mug and running it over the toned forearm many had been denied seeing until the previous October and November. He rubbed up and down his skin, feeling the fine hair beneath his palm before simply grazing his fingertips over Tea’s arm. He could feel bumps, skin slightly raised from the black scars others had informed him of. Tea purred as Jinx stroked his forearm, the sound deep and rhythmic in the skinwalker’s chest. If Jinx hadn’t known better, he would have guessed he was leaning against a cat person and not the wolf that Tea was. His sounds were so realistic, right down to his--

Jinx’s dogs barked and he jumped slightly, his tea spilling over his hand and dripping on his shirt. He was doubly shocked when he didn’t get the chance to open his mouth and call to them. Not before Tea opened his own mouth at least.

And barked.

Jinx’s ears were already standing at attention, but they both spun about to focus on the sounds Tea was making. The skinwalker didn’t stop barking, and the dogs were actually barking back in response.

They were actually having a legitimate conversation.

Jinx was . . . stunned.

After Tea quieted, as did the dogs. Jinx waited for a moment, then asked quietly, “You speak to animals?”

He could almost hear Tea flustering by the tone of his voice and the sound of his smile. “Yeah. Takes less energy than sending them emotion at least.”

“Have you always been able to do that?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “Just wasn’t allowed to until now.”

He said it so calmly . . . it was amazing.

Jinx hummed and settled back against Tea’s side, taking his first sip of tea. It was a calm sip, a soothing flavor. Warm and comforting, just like Tea.

His ears drooped again as he resumed dragging his fingertips over Tea’s forearm and Tea resumed purring. Jinx smiled to himself. “You’re still full of surprises.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Tea asked.

“I’d say good.” There certainly was never a dull moment to be had with the Chandelier.

Jinx liked the calm between them. He also liked the flavor of excitement and . . . newness. That was a good word for this Tea. Newness. It was like he was meeting the skinwalker for the first time every time, but at the same time he was greeting an old friend. Yes, Jinx thought. Yes, I can get used to this.

He didn’t mind having that same thought each time they decided to spend some time together either.


	69. Toasted Marshmallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the Puppeteers returned, Dismas gave Tea a most precious thank you.

There wasn’t much Tea could say when the individual he was speaking to still didn’t know a lick of his language. However, he understood exactly what was being given to him by the man with the acid blood and tongue as soon as it was slapped on his wrist and the word Tea had come to understand as meaning, “Skinwalker,” came out of Dismas’s mouth.

Tea looked from Dismas’s face to the bracelet now on his forearm, then back to Dismas’s face. When Dismas finally slid the awkward mask Chronic had given him back into place, Tea asked, “Now what did you give me, Scooby?”

There was a pause between him asking and Dismas responding. Dismas’s words were eloquent, refined. Dismas had a very fine vernacular it turned out. “A show of gratitude for your attempt to help me upon my untimely arrival.” Dismas touched the bracelet, which was wide even on Tea’s wrist. “This part,” Dismas explained, “is wolf fur.” He ran his finger over the center of the armband, which was indeed soft and gray and reminded him of a pelt he had not seen in . . . he didn’t wish to think on it. He instead listened intently to Dismas’s words. “The beadwork is handwoven.” Dismas ran his finger over the blue and teal beads lining the fur. Tea recognized the attempted color scheme immediately. “I could not help but notice you were without a pelt when I first met you. I was not positive that you owned one, and was told that in fact you did not. So I took the liberty and decided to create something discreet that you may wear at your leisure.” 

Tea stared at the bracelet—pelt—in amazement. In all his years, he had never even been allowed to touch the fur or skin of an animal let alone a wolf. And here was a man giving it to him freely. He traced his fingers over the beadwork and fur fondly, then whispered a soft, “Thank you,” he wasn’t sure Dismas heard.

But he did. “No, this is my thank you.” Tea smiled. It was one of the more pleasant shows of gratitude he had ever received.


	70. Floating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aren acts as an anchor for Tea at times.

The water was cool. Tea could float in it for hours and never feel tired of the waves lapping at his skin. Weeds tickled his back as he closed his eyes and drifted. He could forget his worries. 

Because he had someone tethering him back to the shore.

A smaller hand pulled him through the lake water. He allowed himself to be brought back to land. His back came to rest against mud and a pair of legs that framed his upper body. Tea opened his eyes.

There sat Aren.

He stared into one red eye, the other gone and covered by a patch. One set of fingers grazed over Tea's cheek now. Things were still so hard for both of them. So different. So . . . strange. Tea had been able to tell Aren was upset with him. Maybe not for long, but the residual emotions he had sensed couldn't be ignored. Reaching up out of the water to cup the shade walker's cheek, he stared intently into his face and pondered.

What would Tea have done if he hadn't had Aren to return to?

His vision blurred. His eyes watered. He could actually picture his life without the other and he didn't like it. It hurt. It hurt immensely. Sitting up out of the deafening muffle caused by having his ears tucked under water, Tea leaned up to kiss Aren gently. Aren was still for a moment, but then responded just as softly. Their lips moved in tandem, Tea feeling himself reawakening further with the help of his beloved and only spider.

“I love you Raz.”

“I love you Rowan.”

Their eyes closed as they kissed again and though Tea could imagine a life without Aren but . . . he sure as hell didn't want it.


	71. Spider Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea and Aren know how to make music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is soft smut

Tea and Aren discovered they could sing together in their own unique way that didn't leave either embarrassed by their voices.

That night the woods and its inhabitants was their audience. Their instruments were their bodies. They had an orchestra in each of their chests, the role of maestro shared between the two of them. They conducted with their tongues and lips at first, readying their symphony that would begin with the touch of fingers.

Their music was soft and gentle, clothes not torn but pulled free so they could better hear the music, feel the percussion of their hearts and reeds of their lungs. Their voices were hushed at first, but the more their hands dipped and commanded the louder they grew. Tea's fingers traced the notes to come on Aren’s naked thighs, guiding them apart as he murmured against the smaller’s lips and neck the current stanza. Aren dug his nails into Tea's shoulders, the sounds and feelings performed in harmony with the giant's movements. 

The performance picked up speed as their bodies joined, Tea's thrusts and Aren's hips rising to meet them adding a brilliant set of cords to their song. Their voices rang through the air, the harmony disrupted as they climbed ever closer to the climax. Their duet, once a hesitant piano, was now an incredible forte.

Aren reached his crescendo before Tea, and the pair were completely oblivious to their audience. Wind blew. Leaves rustled. Birds called and bugs chirped. They breathed in each other's music. In the end, it was their music that they had heard. Their music and nothing else save for the title of their performance.

I love you.


	72. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farewell.

“With all the bitches running away these days, I should be snuffing you guys left and right just to call you cowards.” Tapi knocked over another portion of the house, then stopped. Tea was just standing there with his hammer, which had taken a break from sentience to smash the walls of the unoccupied house. “I’m being insensitive aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Tea answered honestly.

“I don’t care.” Another wall came down in a pile of ashes. That Tapi was helping him in his maintenance showed she was frustrated enough to need to outlet. At least he wasn’t her outlet. “Repurpose the mattresses and bedframes. Take anything that can be useful elsewhere. Funds aren’t short, but it’s good to save.” More crackling and the smell of smoking wood. “Goddamn waste. Least your man can build a new one wherever he goes, huh?” She stopped moving then, stopped knocking down the walls when she saw Tea was standing there stagnant. “Hey,” she began, gliding over to him noiselessly. “I know you just woke up. You’re not gonna clock out again there, are you Helen?” Tea shook his head slowly, gripping the hammer’s handle roughly. “Then what’s the problem?”

Tea was quiet, staring at the remains of Leland’s house. In one fell swoop, Leland, Winston, Jinx, Nicoli, and Charta had left his life. He inwardly scoffed at himself. He was even mourning Charta, the asshole who had made him go viral in quite the humiliating way. His grip on the hammer tightened. Just holding the weapon reminded him of the people who had given it to him in the first place. The Puppeteers . . . he knew without them having to tell him that they were a very likely reason they had elected to leave.

Head somewhere safer together.

Somewhere that hadn’t been ruined . . . by him.

He couldn’t blame them for not wanting to stay. Who would want to in the face of all this? Of everything he’d wrought? Tea squeezed his eyes shut before addressing Tapi’s question. “Just another hole to fill. That’s all.” They had played such a significant role in his life. Nicoli’s affection . . . Jinx’s calm . . . Winston’s ability to distract . . . Leland . . . .

Leland . . . and his everything . . . .

“You talked to them before they left, didn’t you?” Tea nodded. “Isn’t that closure enough?” Tea didn’t respond. “Okay you mope. We ain’t got time for this. Spit it out.”

Tea scoffed at her usual coldness, her need to get to the bottom of things, her need for . . . lack of feeling. Something he could never give. Not in this state at least. Wiping his eyes in precaution of tears, he tried desperately not to think of everyone else who had gone in such a short period of time. At least this group . . ., “They wanted me to go with them.” There was a pause. In the space of two seconds a lump of charred wood hit his head. “Ow!” he declared, turning to glare at Tapi.

“That’s for even thinking about it.”

“I wasn’t!” he remarked, rubbing the lump forming on his head.

“Then what’s with the long face?”

He didn’t know how to explain. He’d almost lost Aren. He’d lost Aiden. Now . . . they had all gone. He was torn. How many more would he lose? How many more would walk out on him?

How many would ever ask him to come with them again?

He stared at the flame on his hammer. Again he closed his eyes. Another deep breath. Another attempt to calm the feelings teaming in his chest. One would think he’d be used to this by now. People come. People go. Loved ones and enemies, they all come and go. Life goes on.

His life had to go on.

He needed . . . .

“You would think,” he began quietly, the words almost a murmur, “people would know by now,” he could feel his throat trying to lock, “that I can’t leave.” Those had been the words that divided him and Aiden. The words that divided him and Leland. Him and the others.

“Can’t or won’t?”

Tea opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead at the wall he needed to take down. “Won’t.” He didn’t say what he wanted to say aloud. He didn’t need to to know it was true. Running had never helped him. It had never done anything but cause him more pain. He had always been forced to stay and face what was coming, whether standing tall or forced to his knees. He had to face it. 

Perhaps he was foolish for staying here, where everything was a threat and the floor was practically lava. Perhaps he was an idiot for staying and trying to make amends for his past, for trying to make the home he’d disrupted safe again. Perhaps he was stupid.

Stupid and hardheaded.

If Aiden couldn’t pull him away from here, he was sure no one could. Flexing his arms and raising the hammer, he swung with all his might and destroyed another wall in the crumbling household. Tapi was right. Homes could be rebuilt. It was no longer his responsibility to keep them standing when the inhabitants had deemed it unfit for living. He had other homes that needed fixing. Other things that needed his attention. No matter how much it hurt . . . .

He wasn’t going to leave the ones who still needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the muns of these chips: I'll be seeing you around. Best wishes on the projects that pulled you away, may we meet in another verse! <3
> 
> Just needed a bit of closure for my dope here.


End file.
